#someone has to drive me a good chunk at FOUR IN THE MORNING

[breitzbachbea]

I hate flying so goddamn much.

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

----------------

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[thefanficmonster]

Take That!

Corpse Husband & Reader (Female) ft. Streamer Gang

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Suppressed Sadness, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: What is a friend? Your smile through the tears. The umbrella over your head when it starts raining. The ointment to your wound. But if you wanna put it in a more literal manner, a friend is something that doesn’t have a concrete definition. It can be the person you sit next to in class or the person who’s hundreds of miles away from you and you’re connected to through a Discord call.

Requested by Anon. Hello dear! Thank you so much for your request, sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read if you happen to come across the fic. Love, Vy ❤

There are those days when I wake up excited for a new day. There are also those days when the thought of playing Among Us with my friends is all that gets me out of bed. And then there are those days when not even that can get me to budge. Today is one of those days.

I’d still be in bed right now had I not needed to use the bathroom. On my way back to hide under my covers, I heard my cat’s meow from the kitchen, reminding me she needed to be fed. After tending to that task I just sort of lost will to return to bed either. Speaking truthfully, today is a will-less day. The type of day where I have no idea what to do with myself because I feel so odd and uncomfortable: heavy and bustling head, motivation below zero no matter whether I have zero tasks to tend to or a mountain high pile of work. It’s a laying on the floor and letting my mind eat away at me type of day and I can’t say I appreciate it.

The only thing I have to look forward to is the game of Among Us Corpse invited me to yesterday. Had I known I’d wake up feeling like absolute shit, I wouldn’t have accepted. I just know I’ll be a downer the whole time because I suck at covering up how I feel - my smiling masks and faux happiness don’t cut it but staying quiet is even worse because I’m typically and energetic and bubbly person, always having something to say or a comment to add to the conversation. Always looking to make people laugh.

Well, it’s hard to make people laugh when you feel like a deflated balloon.

I can’t describe the feeling any better than that - I feel empty, maybe a little sad somewhere in the mix, unmotivated. I keep these feelings to myself cause whenever I bring them up people just blow me off, saying I’m describing laziness but more dramatically. Either that or burnout which is sometimes the case, but I’m more than sure that it’s not the culprit for today. You can only blame burnout so many times.

Anyway, I make a mental note, promising myself I’m not gonna bail on my friends regardless of whether my mood gets better or worse. Who knows, maybe a gaming session with them is exactly what I need.

                                                              *  *  *

Not much has changed with my emotional state - I’ve spent a good chunk of the day surfing through TV channels and my socials with nothing else to occupy my mind but the overwhelming knowledge that I’m not feeling ok and that hyperawareness of a void that I feel but cannot describe. At one point, Corpse sent me a text to confirm I’d be participating in the gaming session and I was this close to saying no. This close to coming up with some bullshit excuse and bailing but I didn’t, thankfully. 

Here’s the thing about this drop in mood of mine - I know it’s gonna be gone by morning. It bullies me, beats and batters me for only twenty four hours - never more, never less. Like clockwork and as precise as a Swiss watch. And so fucking annoying. No matter what I do, I can’t end it prematurely and I can never wake up feeling down and unmotivated the next morning - there’s always a surge of motivation coursing through me and it drives me to be super productive as if making up for what I didn’t do the previous day when I was in the dumps.

It’s a twisted way of it showing me I’m powerless and at the mercy of a force that, despite being mine and existing within me, I’m completely unfamiliar with. It’s so fucking unfair, it’s disheartening.

“Hi everyone! Sorry I’m late.“ I greet the five people who have already gathered in the Discord call and the Among Us lobby.

Yeah, sorry I’m late, I was contemplating not showing up at all last minute

“Don’t worry about it, many people are running late as you can see.“ Rae replies reassuringly, “How’s your day? Anything spectacular happen?“

I can’t help but scoff, “Yeah sure, a TON of spectacularism in my life on the daily. From the large stack of papers I couldn’t bring myself to touch, to the dusty surfaces all over my apartment I didn’t convince myself to clean - it’s all fabulous over here.”

Fuck, that was too real

“Whoa, where’d all this sarcasm come from?“ Rae asks, sounding genuinely baffled rather than teasing, “It’s never been your strong suit.“

“Neither has unproductivity.“ Corpse, my best friend, chimes in, “Everything ok?“

Well, I admit, I should’ve known better than to have an outburst like that in front of people who have known me for a while now and can probably gauge my emotions even without me admitting to them. I truly don’t know where it came from. Hell, I didn’t even see it coming.

“Nah, it’s ok. I’m just being lazy, I guess.” I’m quick to withdraw and brush off any suspicion. The last thing I want is to worry my friends or, even worse, receive the same response from them: that I’m being dramatic, that I’m attention-seeking, that I’m just lazy and unmotivated as are most people of my generation.

“You know, what people often self-diagnose as ‘laziness’ often turns out to be something more serious. I don’t mean to scare you, but it could be depression.“ Corpse says after a brief moment of silence in the call, his voice soft and cautious as if explaining a complex problem to a kid who’s bound to be hurt by what it’s told.

I can’t help but chuckle. He has no idea how much he’s relieved me by saying that. I always ‘don’t want to talk about it’ and ‘want to change the subject’ while what I truly need happens to be the complete opposite. I need someone to hear me out, I need someone who will not brush me and my concerns off like we don’t matter. I need someone who’ll understand. And if these people who have openly struggled with anxiety or depression don’t get me, who will?

“Yeah, I genuinely thought I thought of myself as a lowlife while I was in college cause I started losing motivation for everything and started fearing what was to come. I began avoiding going out and talking to people cause I felt like I was the sore thumb in the friend group I had - the only one without any specific goal or a dream.“ Leslie says out of the blue, “Turns out I suffered through a burnout so bad it turned into an anxiety/depression combo that I just blamed on being a lazy college student.“

“Same here!“ Toast pipes in, “I was bedridden for a while during the first days of my streaming career, for a very ridiculous reason - I believed I didn’t deserve the attention I was getting and I wasn’t doing as well as people gave me credit for. So that had me crippled with self-doubt for a long while.“

“I still don’t believe I’m doing as well as I get credit for, but oh well.“ Leslie laughs, “I already told you all about my dumpster-fire of a brain, so I’m instead gonna say: what you need is an appointment with a therapist. Also - you need to stop underestimating your struggles. Invalidating yourself and what you’re going through is gonna make things only worse for you. You need to love yourself.“

“And you need us!“ Rae exclaims, “You need the best support you can get and, lucky for you, we’re the best in the business. Count on us always being there for you, Y/N. Cause we always will be.“

“You’re never alone. We’re all just a call or a text away. Especially me.“ Corpse adds, “I’m basically at your service 24/7, just like you’ve always been for me. What are best friends for if not sharing mental struggles and lifting each other up afterwards?“

I don’t know when this smile made its home on my face but it seems to be rather happy with where it is and wants to stay. Something tells me that thanks to these guys, it will indeed stay there for quite some time. And every time it tries to slip away, they’ll be there to bring it back.

“Then let’s lift each other up, shall we? I mean, what better way to do it other than killing each other and getting away with it?“ I attempt a giggle, hiding my emotions behind it like my life depends on it. Chances are they heard all I’m feeling in my voice, but I can only hope they’re not gonna mention it.

“Y/N, hun, I’m sorry to burst your bubble but....you never get away with it.“ Corpse wheezes, causing me to narrow my eyes and frown.

“Oh, you’re so gonna get it now!“ I exclaim, cracking my knuckles before getting my hands on my keyboard, “Start the game! I have a point to prove!“

And just like that, in what felt like the blink of an eye, the clouds have shuffled aside to make path for the sunshine to grace my brain with positivity I was not expecting to feel until tomorrow morning. I can’t give myself the credit for that though - it all goes to these amazing people I have the honor of calling friends.

I may have no power over it on my own, but with the gang’s help, I can take full control of it. And as a middle finger to the melancholy, I’ll do it all with a bright smile on my face.

Take that, brain!

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[hes-writer]

The Tarnish Series - Complete

Summary: y/n finds a letter that isn’t meant for her

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut, mentions of drunk driving, angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end, time skip of 2.5 years and slight fluff

Word Count: 32.3k words

A/N: a repost of my collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s​ so you can find all the series parts in one post! p.s the word ‘thought’ was used 72 times

DISCLAIMER: this is not an accurate description of who Harry/Camille are in real life. this is purely fictional for the purpose of entertainment. 

It was one of those days where Y/N had a sudden itching in her body to clean. Not just her closet, or her and Harry’s room--but the entire fricking house. The size of their shared home was ridiculous. There were many times when Y/N suggested moving into a smaller home, a cozy house with just enough rooms to hold them and an unexpected guest for the rest of their nights. It led to numerous fights about how Harry felt like she was dictating how to spend his hard-earned money, but they all ended in mushy hugs and soft-spoken apologies.

Y/N learned how to wake up in an empty house. The sudden chill raised goosebumps on her skin as she walked into the home studio Harry had installed a few months after buying the mansion. He felt as though he would be more productive knowing that he didn’t have to travel when inspiration struck. Harry was a bit private with the room, opting to not have anyone else in there unless he was present; not even Y/N. She understood that he needed something that was just for him. Living in the spotlight surely strips an individual out of their humanity and presented in a cookie-cutter way as if he was perfect. All his childhood memories were simply origin stories--a life he once lived before it changed forever. Now, he was Harry Styles the singer/songwriter, actor, host, and situational comedian.

Despite the voice at the back of her head practically screaming at her to not enter, Y/N was stubborn enough to ignore it. It was the last room she had yet to clean and she wanted to feel accomplished knowing that she was productive today. Y/N hummed mindlessly, twisting the knob before pushing it open. The lights flickered on to dim lighting, the clear glass reflecting a subdued figure of her as the glowing bulbs highlighted the expensive instruments littering the room.

Y/N puffed her cheeks out as she inspected the space. It wasn’t as messy as she had expected, only a few crumpled pieces of paper probably thrown out of frustration beside the trash can, the couch and the mechanic board. She rolled her eyes at Harry’s tendency to not clean up, especially after scratching ideas that weren’t good enough. He didn't want to give those a second thought.

As she approached the coffee table in front of the sofa, Y/N couldn’t help but notice one of the many leather-bound journals that Harry kept to scribble his thoughts and ideas into. A sharp corner of a crisp envelope was buried beneath it.

My love.

Y/N raised her brow at the cursive lettering on the back, assuming that it was her for her. She should have known better when she caught sight of the stamp at the left-hand corner, ready to be mailed but her excitement overshadowed the looming truth, gently raising the flap to pull the handwritten letter out.

My love,

    I hope you find this letter well. I apologize for acting like such an old man, sending a letter by post instead of living in the modern age of instant messaging.

She chuckled at the words Harry wrote. He really did have an interesting sense of humour.

    First of all, I’d like to thank you for sticking with me throughout our relationship. I know that we’ve had our ups and downs but I wouldn’t have anyone to spend it with aside from you, my love. I’m away too much—I know. I leave for work to see the world, to see the fans while sharing them a piece of myself. But I could never forget giving a piece of myself to you. You absolutely have my whole heart in the palm of your hands’.

Y/N blushed at his confession. She felt a little guilty for reading without his explicit permission but there was no doubt in her head that he was getting the best treatment as soon as he walks through the front door. Y/N couldn’t believe how lucky she was for finding a man like Harry willing to be so open and vulnerable with his feelings.

    The times at the cafe where we read together, sipping on our coffees and I’d catch your eyes staring at me.

She sighed dreamily, picturing his forest green eyes in her head. The intensity that he wore whenever he observed made a flush appear on her cheeks and butterflies to go haywire in her stomach. It was what they had done during his break. Starting a book club with him made the actual book interesting because he read to her in the softest voice and asked her what she thought when a character seemingly has done something out of the blue.

    The Beachwood Cafe will always have a special place in my heart.

That was the moment when anxiety struck her like a bolt of lightning; quick to change the enchanted feeling in her heart and replacing it with fear. Harry talked about the cafe with such adoration that Y/N requested for him to bring her there one day. They haven’t done so yet.

Y/N bit her lip nervously, gnawing at the skin despite applying lip scrub on it the night prior. The organ in her chest pounded with each syllable sticking to her tongue as she silently whispered along. Hands shaking with passing seconds, Y/N almost did not want to let her eyes drift to the bottom of the page, fearing that what she feared would stare at her straight in the face.

    I’m finally ready to face my fears of telling her that our relationship isn’t working out. I know that we have both been wanting it to be just us for a while.

She repeated the statement over and over, trying to make sense of who he was talking about. Was it their relationship? It couldn’t be because that would mean that Harry was being unfaithful. Was he cheating on her? Y/N’s mind was dizzy with thoughts being fired back and forth. The impulsive side of her was dead set on confronting Harry about this letter but the logical pair wanted to reach the end of the letter before making an assumption. She couldn’t just start a fight based on a misunderstanding; that was one of the things that Harry hated about his exes. They were too easily manipulated by the media to immediately doubt him when the tiniest rumour rose. But this letter was written right from Harry’s hand, his pen lying innocently on the table beside the journal.

    You're the love of my life, Camille. I promise I'll end it with Y/N soon. We're meant to be, I truly believe it. I love you so much.

Petrified. If there was one word to describe the lump building in her throat and the churning of her stomach going awry; it was petrified. The sinking feeling as if her esophagus was stretched to its extent, swallowing a chunk of realization down her throat to the pit of her stomach swelling in nausea and nervousness.

Four years, Harry and Y/N have been together. There was no doubt in her mind that she loves him dearly, dreaming of a life that they would share in the future. He wanted it with someone else. He was building it with someone else. Y/N released a sob from her soft lips, her breath hitching as she tried to calm down. Talk to him first, she reminded herself. But what was there to talk about? Y/N had evidence in her hand that he was still speaking to Camille (Did he even stop?). That Harry was going to leave her, that he was cheating on Y/N.

Y/N had a plan in case this happened to her. She has watched way too many movies and snickered at the way the character always seemed to let the news of a cheating partner break their whole being. And she would like to apologize to them right now because she understood exactly the type of weight smashed unto her shoulders; too heavy to lift up by herself and it seemed as if she was crushed, watching Harry walk away from them; from her.

The words appeared to jump out of the page, especially her name. Camille. Written so prettily as if Harry took the time to pen her name with such carefulness and design. Y/N wanted to projectile vomit from her discovery but she couldn’t leave a mess in his fancy studio. And God, she hated herself right now for thinking about how Harry would react when her world was crumbling around her.

    I’m leaving Y/N. We can finally be together and I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught, Camille. I’m sorry that it’s taken me such a long time. I’ve kept you waiting for me but your patience is something that I greatly appreciate.

With her heart rate picking up, Y/N’s hand shook as she struggled to fold the letter properly as if she never saw it. One glance at the paper showed dotted streaks of wetness and only then did she realize the tears lathering her cheeks. Her cornea stung slightly, sensitive to the air as she blinked hard to will her tears back in. How long has this been going on?

“Y/N!?” Harry’s husky shout of her name boomed from the entrance. The large interior reverberating his voice, yet she failed to hear.

Harry quickly walked to the studio to retrieve the letter he was supposed to mail out today before he came home. Unfortunately, he forgot it in the midst of rushing after a slow-session of love-making with Y/N between the sheets early this morning.

Y/N did not know who’s heartbeat was thumping in her ears; hers or Harry. His lids peeled back to showcase surprise and horror plastered on his lips in the shape of an ‘o’. Harry could only hope that Y/N hadn’t gotten too far in reading the private letter. However, the way she rejected to meet his gaze after catching the guilty expression of his features; it was too late.

“Baby, please,” He whispered, the humming of the mechanic board switched on from last night’s session. Y/N shook her head, refusing to hear a bullshit apology spewing out of his mouth in a word vomit of ‘sorry’s’ and ‘i didn’t mean to’ because if he didn’t, why did he do it in the first place?

She walked past him, flinching as her shoulder brushed his and a gasp fell out of her mouth. Y/N didn’t know what to do but she knew that she wasn't to be surrounded by the one person who she thought would never hurt her. Long strides led her to the bedroom where she swiftly grabbed a duffel bag hidden away in the corners of the closet to pack a few items.

Harry stared at the piece of paper gracefully wisping against the air to fall on the ground. It was crumpled slightly on where Y/N held it. Tear stains blotted some of the ink, causing it to bleed through. Did he feel guilty? Of course, he did. Harry felt terrible that Y/N had to find out this way, but he cannot lie that he felt relieved because it’s finally over.

He walked to the seating area just after the entryway to the main door. He stood in the middle of the room with the letter tucked away properly in the envelope. Harry guessed that he didn’t have to mail this anymore. He heard her before he saw her, huffing slightly from the heavy bag on her shoulder. Sniffles scrunching up her nose like a cute bunny.

“Y/N, I’m--,” Harry reached out to her, not knowing why he did but seeing her struggle was never a sight he wanted to see.

Y/N stuck the palm of her hand out to him, pausing him in his footsteps, “I never want to see you again. Don’t contact me.”

The shiver crawling up his spine was something that he would never admit. Fear was picking away at his insides but he won’t let it show. Not when Harry was the one that insinuated it in the first place. And he won’t lie, his ego was as bruised as a ripe peach because annoyance immediately filled his body right after.

“Thank God,” He rolled his eyes upwards, placing his hands on his hips, “Took you long enough to realize that I don’t want you around anymore,” The moment the words leave his lips, Harry regretted even thinking about them. It wasn’t exactly the whole truth. He still cared for and he still wanted her around--just not in the way he used to. Maybe they could even be friends but he fucked up that chance when he decided to speak like an asshole to her, especially when he could practically see Y/N holding on to her last thread of not letting the tears fall in front of him.

His ego clawed at his muscled chest, exacerbating everything when he continued, "I'm not in love with you. Don't think I ever was. You're nothing compared to her and you know it. Can't believe I ever dated you,”

Y/N was trying to process his words on top of the emotions that were swirling inside of her. She felt as though her mind was about to explode. It was overwhelming. All these feelings and new information confusing her to the point where she was rendered speechless because didn’t Harry just tell her that he loved her last night? And weren’t they talking about starting a family last Christmas in his childhood home? Anne had even dropped the ‘baby’ bomb during dinner to which Harry blushed and stuttered his words over. Memories flashed before her, yet the only thing that came out of her mouth was a dreary, flat question of, “How long?”

“A year,’

Y/N knew that she had opened a can of worms ready to plague every happy memory she shared with him because a year ago, Harry and she were celebrating their third year together in Italy. A year ago, he promised to stay by her side ‘forever, until the end of time’. Exactly twelve months ago did Harry slow dance with Y/N at a friend’s wedding, drunk off his ass but coherent enough to mumble, ‘Want you to be my wife, Y/N,’ in her ear.

Harry was remorsing it more and more with every word that came out of his mouth. Though, he could not stop because he wanted to get the last word before she left.

“Y’know when I said I wanted a family with you? I lied. I felt sorry for you. No one else is going to want you anyway, so I thought I might try.” He was close to tears himself, his lip pursing tightly because all he ever wanted was a family with her. They had spent so many nights planning where to live if kids came up in the future. Harry can’t give up his facade now, not when suddenly apologizing will make him look like a jerk and an asshole.

“She's pretty y’know? Could’ve never have lived up to that. . . Camille, she's someone I'd want a family with. I'd marry her because she's worthy of me. Who are you in comparison?"

Who was she? Who was Y/N without Harry? Her life was centered around the one man she thought would stick around until her skin wrinkled in old age. Until her voice withered with a shaky plead. Until her arms felt too weak lift and so they had to settled for a simple graze on the hand.

Her shoulders slouched with emotional exertion. She didn’t even notice her fingernails digging into her skin as she pondered over her next words. Staring at him with a wilting confidence as he breathed heavily, daring her to talk back at him. To answer his difficult question fully knowing that Y/N didn’t know the answer to it and Harry has no problem taking full advantage of the way he was put on a pedestal in this relationship with her.

Y/N was trying her hardest to be strong. No way was she going to let Harry see her cry. Harry who has seen her cry many times before due to serious reasons and silly breakdowns because the book she had been reading didn’t end the way she wanted it to. And this relationship wasn’t progressing like how she had envisioned it to.

He was blatantly describing how much he did not appreciate her. Putting her down by attacking her with dreams that she had discussed with him because it was the easiest way for him to dispose of the guilt and sorrow he would’ve been feeling otherwise. Making it seem like it was her fault for not being enough for him when she has always been a match for him. Y/N knew that she was worth something and Harry not seeing how valuable she is doesn’t mean she had lost the ability to see herself as someone worth loving.

Y/N held his gaze, memorizing every speck of gold litter on his irises as she took off her engagement ring, throwing the jewellery at him without a second thought. In a rush of confidence, Y/N raised her arm to retreat behind her and shoot forward with a slapping sound as her palm met his cheek. If Harry taught her anything during their relationship, it would be to ‘treat people with kindness’ and that included herself.

She staggered a few steps back, watching as he stayed unmoving, his cheek reddening with a handprint. Shaking her head, Y/N aimed for the exit, opening the door to leave.

“Wait!”

She was only human to admit that that one word sparkled the light of hope within her. Y/N turned around, gripping the door handle.

“I feel guilty, my love. Please don’t leave, let’s talk about this properly,”

“I’m sorry you feel that way but you’re a liar for making me think that this relationship wasn’t over a year ago when you started cheating on me with her. You’re a coward for not telling me that your feelings have changed and an arrogant son of a bitch to not admit that you’re sorry,” It was her turn to speak now and it was best if Harry stayed put and listened. Perhaps it would even be the last time that he shared this close distance with her.

“I can see it in your eyes, H. I know you. You don’t mean it when you say you didn’t love me because I felt it and you showed me. I just don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me when—” Y/N suddenly clutched her stomach, cupping her hand over her mouth.

Harry’s body moved before he could even think, reaching his arms to steady her as she stumbled slightly. The hinge of the door creaked as she used the momentum to stabilize herself and push him away from her. She coughed harshly, piercing his ears as the dreadful sound scratched her throat. Harry was scared because Y/N wouldn’t let him touch her.

Y/N gagged, racing to the kitchen sink to empty her stomach. Retching sounds filled the otherwise quiet home as Y/N held her hair away from her face. Harry offered to thread his fingers through but she shook her head. He backed away.

Hushed coughs dripped past her lips, her body slouched and panting over the sink.

“Love? Are you okay?” Harry remained his distance, following her body in case she fell. The furrow in his brow warmed Y/N’s heart but she soon realized that caring was in his nature.

The refrigerator door opened, Y/N grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap open and putting the opening against her mouth. “Don't touch me. I don’t want you near me. I never want to see you again,” She slammed the half-drunk bottle on the counter, not caring if the water spilled; it’s his mess now.

Harry followed her like a lost puppy, “Where are you going? You can't go out in that state,"

Y/N ignored him, opting to crouch down to pick up the duffle bag she had dropped with a searing glare directed to him.

"Please wait, stay here. You're sick. Y’can't go out, love,”

At the sound of the word ‘love’ leaving his lips, Y/N shuddered. All she can remember was reading the letter addressed to someone else when all this time she thought it was reserved for her. She turned around, gasping in surprise when he abruptly stopped in front of her. Harry’s hands wrapped around her waist to prevent Y/N from falling backwards.

Upon inspection, Harry could see that Y/N was paler than usual. Her eyes decked out with glossiness and he wasn’t sure if it was from the tears she had managed to hold back or from the recent sickness. She pushed him away harshly, heaving all her strength to create distance between them.

“No,” Y/N spoke with grit, “You wanted to leave, right? I’ll make it easier for you—I’m gonna leave first.” Her clumsy nature decided to act up, causing her to stumble down the short steps of the door to the walkway. Harry caught Y/N by the forearm.

Y/N shrugged his warm hand off of her, “Get away from me!” Her shrill voice pierced a knife in his chest. Harry’s lips began to quiver because she has never pushed him away before.

“You'll never speak to me again?"

The door slammed in front of his face in response.

“Hmm, I guess not.”

The driveway is littered by the sound of her engine starting, then driving away. Now, Harry’s alone in the spotless house that Y/N had cleaned all day. He sat on the sofa, fiddling with the ring that Y/N had taken off. He had not let himself fully immerse in the gravity of how much he had hurt Y/N yet. He was about to--but one ring of his phone distracted him.

Harry smiled at the caller ID, swiping his thumb to answer.

“Hi, my love.”

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

__

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!“

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant. Did she really move on that quickly?

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

____

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

_____

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

____

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her' his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

__

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a tet back

Harry:  "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

____

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/Nhummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

___

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a  bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second.  Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

____

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.  

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!”

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting--Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)--Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.  

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,”  Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.

Harry began to sob.

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered  bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all.

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

Harry felt out of place.

As a world-renowned pop star, he was used to being paid a different kind of attention in most of the places he went to. He should be used to it. Harry had to take measures in order not to get recognized for stepping into a local coffee shop. Even in hot weather, his recognizable tattoos gave easy access for fans to whisper amongst each other, wondering if it was the right time to ask for a photo or merely share a conversation with him.

His voice--the thing that made him as famous as he is now--was tinted into his fans’ heads. Recognition blaring in their ears when the deep, gruff tone projected the open air. It would be quite disturbing if he had to change the pitch for everyday errands. Harry would rather feel out of place than go to extremes to change who he was.

This lifestyle was something that he was used to, having been under the scrutiny of the public eye for a little over a decade now. But Harry knew that Y/N was a small, town girl practically bickered and poked until she was forced to cough something out to taint Harry’s name in vain. From the way, he preferred sniffing his nose into a hanky instead of a Kleenex. The way he snored loudly when his nostrils felt dry. The way his hair isn’t as naturally curly as it appears to be. All of these things were the borderline crossing of his privacy that she could’ve taken to the press, urging in many articles written about his odd habits or preferences.

Not that he thought Y/N was that type of person to spill secrets in the midst of desperation, but Harry had cheated on her for God’s sake. If she did run her mouth, Harry wouldn’t blame her. He was horrible to her; cheated on her for a year, not even bothering to tell Y/N that his affection was teetering in favour of not hurting her and wanting to keep his side relationship a secret for a taste of adrenaline that came with his less-than boring life.

Harry left her alone while she was going through a life-changing period of her life. To be fair, Y/N didn’t actually tell him. She tried, but the message never reached his cognition. Harry wanted to save his salvation by choosing to believe that it was her fault for not visiting him in person to tell him the news.

Really though, how could Harry possibly know about her pregnancy if she didn’t make the effort to inform him of his own child. It wasn’t like he was supposed to check in on her, his ex-girlfriend, right? That was unheard of. And frankly, Harry thought that the day everything blew up--when she read the letter meant for Camille; Y/N made it very clear that she did not want to speak to him again. So really, Harry was just respecting her wishes.

Y/N was supposed to be the one feeling out of place; not Harry. If only she had told him when she identified the symptoms of pregnancy, he could have helped out. Harry wasn’t sure if he would have left Camille to begin a family with Y/N (if she took him back) or if he was only a parent of support. One that was there for the sake of raising a child but not sharing the means and affection to build a relationship with Y/N.

These were Harry’s thoughts as he sat with the family of three. In between Y/N and Connor as they sat on opposite ends of the round table with baby Halo in her high chair and Harry across from her. Halo was staring at him with wonder and curiosity; a shy type of look that tinted her cheeks a tad rosy and her lashes to peer at the man adjacent to her, wondering why he was joining them in their family dinner.

Harry felt out of place.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Connor asked, feeding the child a spoonful of peas. “Not usually like this,” She shook her head, tucking her arms together and pursing her lips inwards in a sign of rejection.

Halo looked at Y/N who was giving her a soft smile, then to Harry. “She’s not usually like this. She must be shy that you’re here tonight, Harry,” Y/N explained, a tone of indifference that she tried to mask to help Halo feel a little more comfortable.

Harry gulped heavily. His child was uncomfortable because of him. He almost felt guilty for wanting to scoop her up and canoodle Halo in his arms. Harry still hadn’t had the chance to do that.

When the door opened earlier this evening, Harry was met by Y/N’s furrowed brows, firmly reminding him that this dinner was for him to be slowly introduced into Halo’s life. Harry would get the chance to care for her by helping the child with her nighttime routine. That included brushing her teeth, tucking her in, a bedtime story and possibly a kiss on the forehead.

Harry was giddy, to say the least. Harry was confident with kids and could easily mould into what they needed. If they wanted him to pretend to be a car while they jumped on his back as they grasped onto his curls to steer him, he would. If Harry was instructed to be a pretty princess with a plastic tiara on his head, he would exaggeratedly lift a pinky up to play the part. It was easy for him to win the hearts of his little nieces and nephews because they were familiar with him. They knew him as ‘Uncle Harry’ who gave them gifts whenever he came over to visit or if there was a large family reunion.

He couldn’t exactly do that with Halo. She was familiar with him, yes. However, the one time they interacted, Harry had made her cry. It didn’t sit right with him that tears sprung from her corneas when she was only trying to make him feel better, sensing that her parents wanted nothing to do with him.

It wasn’t like Harry knew what she liked either. Did Halo like playing with dolls? Animals? Race cars? The most basic of things, Harry didn’t know. What was her favourite colour? When was her birthday? His resumé was already tarnished since he wasn’t present when her mother fell pregnant. Then, he missed her first steps, her first words. He was just a stranger to her.

And it showed from the way he stepped foot into the kitchen.

Harry heard her before he saw her. Tiny squeals and giggles fell from her mouth as Connor chased her around with plates grasped in his hands. Y/N had scolded the man for getting distracted instead of setting the table. Halo’s noises quieting down when she caught sight of the familiar yet unfamiliar man loitering the doorway.

“‘M sorry, love. Halo wanted to play,” Connor gripped her waist to pull Y/N closer to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she fought off a smile from splintering her face. “Right, cutie?”

“Wanted to play! Sowwy mama,’ Halo apologized, tugging on her pant leg.

That was when Harry realized the possibility of ruining the little family they had in the words. But this was supposed to be his in the first place so he couldn’t care less if he wrecked it. As selfish as it may be, Harry thought that there was meaning in him accidentally hearing Gemma’s conversation with Y/N. Sure, it was bound to happen, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. The hole in his heart caused by Camille’s confession of not wanting kids was growing each day, accentuated by the late-night trip to the grocery store and seeing the small baby clothes that took up half of his palm.

It was a sign, right? He felt like he was drowning in a relationship that had no future and the next day, he was met with Y/N and their baby.

Symbolism. As a writer, it was absolutely crucial to introduce some sort of word, item, place, or person and infuse it with impeccable meaning. Irrefutable to the point that that noun is and will be what the writer makes of it.

Round tables were supposed to be better at sprouting conversations than rectangular or square tables. Any conversation between a pair must be shared with everybody who sat around it. There was no room to quietly snicker or ration secrets. Yet somehow that theory was not working. At all.

Harry felt like an intruder sitting in a table that never held more than three people because it was always just them: Y/N, Connor and Halo. As the child got more comfortable with his presence, she slowly started babbling incoherent and coherent words alike, conversing with her ‘parents’ as they asked her about her day at daycare. Y/N asked about Connor’s day at work and the latter reciprocated the question which she was currently answering.

“It wasn’t as busy as I thought,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, forking a piece of mash. Connor made a sound of recognition, “S’that why you texted me to go home instead?”

Y/N nodded, helping Halo scoop her own forkful of mash, “Yep, I had time to go to the store. I know that you were swarmed at work,” The couple allotted a loving glance towards each other.

Harry’s heart was cracking. He was witnessing what he could have had and He had a front-row seat to it. Was it jealousy? Maybe. He was in a relationship so he shouldn’t feel like swarming Y/N’s smaller frame in his arms, shielding her and baby Halo away from Connor. But he did.

“What about you, Harry?” Connor questioned him with a kink to his brow. Harry could tell that the question wasn’t sincere, purely out of consideration.

In a surprise, Harry coughed a little, reaching out to his cloth to dab the corners of his mouth. Truth to be told, Harry spent the day in a state of anxiety. From the moment he woke up, Harry could feel his chest expanding with nervousness, heart beating loudly and pounding in his ears. He picked at the skin of his lip in the wonder of what he was going to wear. If he should wear cologne or if it will irritate Halo’s senses. He spent the better half of the morning browsing online for toys he could get in a hurry to give to Halo.

Harry contemplated cancelling the dinner because of the uneasy feeling boiling in his stomach. Heightened senses and pinched nerves convinced Harry that he could feel the muscles of his esophagus contracted as he swallowed. Lungs punctured with the tip of the pen he was using to scrawl a list of ideas to build a bond with his daughter

“It was alright,” Harry said warily, “Didn’t really have anythin’ to do today except come here,”

Y/N pulled her head back in surprise, “Sorry, we ruined your day off,”

His eyes widened immediately. Harry’s usual aura of confidence nowhere to be seen, “N-no, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” He could feel stray curls hitting his cheekbones lightly. “I jus’-- it’s m’break so I haven’t got anything for the next couple of months,”

___

Harry’s settled nerves were awoken when it was time to clean up. Y/N insisted on doing the dishes with Connor while Harry bonded with Halo.

“Remember, you’re doing this for her,” Y/N whispered in his ear, causing shivers to crawl up his spine, “Don’t be nervous, Harry. She’s going to love you,” She added, seeing the way he blinked warily at Halo and Connor. Even going as far as giving him a comforting smile.

“Thank you, Y/N--for giving me this,” She nodded in response, jutting her chin downwards.

“Hawwy? Mama said you gonna help me get to bed?” Halo’s green eyes still shone despite the dim kitchen lighting, reminding Harry that this was his and Y/N’s creation. Throughout the dinner, the child had somehow warmed up to Harry’s presence. With a promise of an ice cream trip after her nursery classes earlier in the morning, Halo was quick to befriend the man who she pointed out: ‘has the same dimple as me!’--while poking a stubby finger to her plush cheek, grinning to showcase it.

Harry could feel his heart thud, crouching down to her level, worried of her straining her neck looking up at his tall stature. “Tha’s right. Wanna show me where the bathroom is?” She nodded, grabbing Harry’s index finger to drag him along, exerting his lumbar to keep his height low. He could feel Halo’s feet stumbling, keeping her balance by tightening her grip on Harry.

Their time in the bathroom was fairly short. Halo had learned to brush her teeth by herself. She only needed Harry to guide her up the stool so that she could reach the sink, spitting the foam from her mouth when Harry made a funny face in the mirror, giggling loudly that had Harry’s chest feeling light.

As they walked through the hallway, Harry couldn’t help but let his ears be numb to Halo’s babbling about her favourite stuffed toy. He didn’t mean to. Instead, his neck craned to the door left agape, assuming that it was Connor and Y/N’s with the way the Gucci shoes that Harry had bought her were neatly placed at the bottom of the foot of the bed. He stared down at his moving feet, mood souring despite the bright colours of his loafers imprinted in a little rainbow--the same ones that he just caught sight off and wavered just as quickly.

“You like it?”

He snapped out of his thoughts when Halo climbed on her tiny bed, clutching her favourite stuffed toy. Harry plastered a beaming grin on his face, inspecting the painted room, the small desk pushed against the wall and the numerous artworks taped to almost every surface.

One, in particular, had his heart aching more so than it already was.

It was a hand-drawn stick figure portrait of Y/N, Halo, and Connor. Harry couldn’t even pretend that the skinny, stretched black marker was him because the child messily penned Connor’s name underneath. The figures were holding each others’ hands, oblong faces paired with a curved mouth shaped upwards. It didn’t help that the title at the top was “My Famli” which was crossed over with a red marker and re-titled underneath as “My Family” in neat handwriting that Harry could recognize as Y/N’s.

“Hawwy?” She repeated, wondering why he was staring so hard at the drawing taped on her bedside table. Her brows furrowed when a drop of tear fell from his eye and landed on Connor’s head, smudging the ink and making it blurry disarray as Halo gasped. “Oh no!”

“‘M s-sorry, Halo,” Harry’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth, sobbing threatening to escape but he remembered how that would make his daughter feel. Halo placed her soft hand on top of his.

“It’s okay, Hawwy. I can do it again,” Her timid voice made his heart flutter. Halo didn’t want Harry to cry again and it looked like he was about to so she scurried in planting her shaky legs on the floor. A blank paper was already stable on her desk, grabbing a marker to draw the ruined project again. She could see Harry’s shadow towering over her, thanks to the light projected by her lamp.

Flipping the paper over, Halo giggled, “Go away! Y’cant see it till it’s done,” She used her force to push him backwards which wasn’t a lot so Harry walked backwards until the back of his calves hit her bed frame. “Stay there and play with Honey,”

As she got back to work, Harry searched for ‘Honey’, finding an oatmeal coloured bear with a pot of honey clutched between its threaded paws. He stared at the plush toy for what felt like forever, wondering how special this must be to her. And how Harry wasn’t the one to have given it to her.

“Done!” Halo’s timidness returned, hiding the paper behind her back yet Harry heard the slight crumple.

Placing the stuffed toy on the bed, he asked, “Are y’gonna show me?”

She handed the artwork to Harry while he watched, smiling softly. Halo slapped her palms on her cheeks when Harry turned it over, his breath hitching when he saw the extra figure that she had drawn.

Harry. With a head of wild curls and dotted green eyes that appeared more black with the lighting.

He couldn’t help it when happy tears seared his waterline which Halo mistook for complacence. “You don’t. . .like it Hawwy?”

“I-I do. I love it, honey,” Harry admitted, chuckling slightly as he patted his upper thigh. She climbed onto the bed with him, the wood creaking beneath Harry’s weight. Halo clumsily climbed on his lap, lifting his heavy forearm so she could sneak between his legs.

Harry could feel his nonexistent double chin crowding his neck as he looked down at Halo who was cuddled to his chest, lips turned into a pout, looking at her quick-minute work. “I like it cause you’re there,” She pointed at the ice cream in Harry’s hand before yawning loudly.

“You’re sleepy, baby Halo?’

She nodded, pressing a small hand on his chest. Harry took the initiative to lay the child down on her pillow despite every nerve in his body urging him to stay in that position. But Harry figured that he had probably overstayed his welcome for the night.

Harry pressed a passionate kiss to her forehead, caressing her head gently. Sleep eyes stared at him as he pulled her fleece blanket to her chin. “Stay?” She questioned, fists crumpling to clutched the end of the fabric.

“I can’t, bub,” He informed with regret, shaking his head sadly and his mouth curved downwards. His knee was sore with weight pressed on his knee cap and his lumbar was aching with how he crouched down one too many times this evening, but all pain seemed to disappear when Halo picked up Honey the Teddy Bear from beside her and gave it to Harry. “For me? Thank you,”

Halo laid back down on her bed, “Mhm,”

“Why?”

As a two-year-old, Halo could only say so many words, yet her thoughts went far deeper than her brain could comprehend. That she felt a profound attachment to Harry despite seeing him twice. How pleasant it was to spend even just a small amount of time with him. Harry was nice and gave her forehead kisses and rubbed her head that placed a smile on her face. He cried because he loved her artwork and he apologized when he did something wrong. He contorted his lips into a silly face to make her laugh. He was going to be picking her up from school and Harry said he was going to buy her ice cream tomorrow!

“I dunno,” Halo shrugged, peering downwards to avoid eye contact. Harry chuckled heartily, puckering his pink lips to another peck on her forehead, and then both of her cheeks.

Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.

Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the ones to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.

To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.

For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.

Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.

Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.

Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.

Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.

“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.

She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”

And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.

“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.

“I told him the consequences if he did,”

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.

Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.

“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.

“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”

Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.

For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.

Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.

Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.

Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.

“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.

Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.

“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.

“Let me see, baby,”

Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.

That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.

Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.

The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”

Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.

“You okay?”

She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”

Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”

Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.

Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.

He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.

Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”

Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.

She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.

“Harry, wait!”

He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”

Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”

“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.

She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”

And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.

“Got it,”

Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”

Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.

“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”

Where was he?

It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.

There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.

Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.

Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”

Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.

“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.

Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.

“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.

“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.

Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.

He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“What d’ya think?”

She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.

What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.

Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.

Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.

“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”

She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”

He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.

Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”

Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.

She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.

Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.

Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.

Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”

Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’

“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.

He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.

Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.

Harry puffed a breath of air from his plump lips, chest weighing heavy with the pressure that came from Camille’s head. Her blonde strands were splayed all over his inked chest, fingertips softly tracing over the detailed butterfly on his belly. The giant smile spread over his cheeks made the muscles hurt, yet Harry couldn’t help the expression from overtaking his face.

He was happy.

Camille nuzzled her face closer to him, only looking up when she felt Harry thread his digits through her hair, “Do you think we did it?”

Harry chuckled, wrinkling the skin under his chin as he captured her gaze, “If not, we can always try again, no?” He leaned over to press a kiss on her hairline, breathing deeply to catch the last scent of her shampoo.

The woman cast a glance over the shimmering metal-wrapped around Harry’s wrist, the hands of the watch ticking with each second passing by. “Wanna try again now?”

Harry blinked his lids, tired from their ministration. However, the enthralling feeling boiled from deep within his chest, excitement buzzing all over his vein. The throbbing itch on his fingertip had him doubting the events of today. Like a red shoe-string knot tied over his index, Harry felt like he was missing out on something important.

The discarded shirt laying limply on the floor had Harry’s thoughts humming with whispering desire. Was he too fascinated with the prospective idea of starting his own family that he forgot about the one he already had?

With that thought zooming in his brain, Harry sat up with intensity, accidentally jolting Camille’s upper half with a quiet ‘oomph’ slipping past her lips.

“Sorry! Sorry Cam,” Harry yelled over his shoulder, bending down to grab his shirt. He trudged down the steps, sliding his taut arms over the holes of the shirt as he scrambled to button the stubborn links to close the shirt.

He almost lost his balance on the last couple of steps because of his socked feet against the varnished wood, catching himself at the last minute with a ringed-hand clutching the railing tightly. Harry reached the foyer dresser where he kept his essentials--his keys and leather wallet--, patting down the back pocket of his dress pants to check if he had his phone with him.

Harry paused for a few seconds once he slammed the front door shut, catching his breath. He watched the last rays of sunset projecting over the horizon from where his mansion stood from the hills, wondering if he was too late. Clicking his phone on, Harry’s eyes bulged from the white letters bolding the time.

A few minutes left before Halo’s recital was yet to begin and Harry had to figure out some magical way to make his twenty-minute trek shortened into a mere five minutes. Not including the time he had already wasted frozen on his porch step because of idling fear creeping up his spine. He was scared because there was no way that Harry would be able to make it on time-- he knew that. But he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Y/N cheered Halo on when the curtains swayed to reveal the tiny dancers. Her fluffy tutu made her look absolutely adorable as she stood on her tiptoes, gracing her arms over her head with a practiced smile on her face. The music from the speakers shifted the mood to gather the guests’ attention to the girls on stage, parents cooing at the sight of their small children dancing their hearts out.

Y/N was unofficially assigned to gesture with silent claps and bold thumbs ups’ whenever Halo happened to glance over in their direction. Connor squared his fingers to clutch the edges of his phone, the red button rippling as the time duration changed, recording the whole performance from start to finish.

Despite the fact that the dance classes’ media team made an announcement that a professional videographer would be capturing the whole thing, Y/N wasn’t going to let memories of her child be left in clear-cut transitions. Both her and Connor wanted the recital captured from their point of view. To be reminded of the time Halo rewarded their sleepless nights with a proud, gleaming smile because of how talented and well-rounded she was at such a young age---it was all worth it.

For a moment, Y/N was reminded of the empty seat beside her, the cushions cold and not at all moulded to the shape of Harry’s body. She wondered if his expression would mirror hers; brows drawn in, eyes wide and lips slightly agape as their little girl gave them a subtle wave before doing a twirl.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice Halo’s dimmed features when she caught sight of the gap beside her mum, her ballet slippers skidding of the varnished flooring of the stage, causing little Halo to stumble and fall hard on her knees. A loud thud echoed throughout the auditorium from the hollowness of the flooring, her head staring down at her hands, shoulders slouched as her tutu spread over her minuscule limbs.

Connor shifted his device lower, peaking over his hands to see the child glance around helplessly. Her lashes fluttered around the room; the concerned faces of the audience, her teachers’ gesticulate hands urging her to stand tall, and finally, to her parents’ gentle encouragement.

Y/N shared a quick look with Connor before the couple directed tender smiles to Halo.Y/N mouthed silent cheers, watching Halo’s lips morph upwards, green eyes gleaming against the reflection of the stage light. With one last hopefully glance at the doors, Halo’s pink tights stretched over her knees gathering the strength to push herself up. She shook her head, her adolescent thoughts wondering why she ever put her trust in Harry.

Halo didn’t even know him that well! He was just a person that showed her much of what she wanted, enabling her to the type of love that felt so natural to the point that she pondered why Harry hadn’t been there to drop her off on her first day of preschool. Or made pancakes for breakfast with the small breaks of flour fights in between while Y/N slept soundly in bed. Why Harry’s eyes were the same shade as hers and how her tiny fingers fit perfectly well on the dimples on his cheeks---the same one she had on her plush ones!

The pain in the child’s chest was confusing for her to fully comprehend, yet Halo understood enough that it had to do with Harry's absence in a performance that she was excited for him to attend. Halo tried her best not to look at where her parents stayed seated because she knew that that empty seat would make her lose focus and that was exactly what happened.

With the remaining minutes of the set, Halo blocked the sight of the unoccupied chair, opting to watch her parents instead until the set came to an end and she was to switch costumes for her the grand finale with the rest of the students later on in the evening.

Harry slammed the end of his palm against the leather material of the horn, honking blaring sounds that hurt his own ears. Cursing under his breath, he huffed at the driver who flipped him off for not running through the yellow light, causing Harry to get stuck behind him. He could’ve pressed on the pedal and speedily grasped through the next intersection. Albeit unsafe, but that was the last thing on Harry’s mind.

The digital clock on the dash switched to ten minutes after the performance. Harry was hoping that there was some sort of technical difficulties that pushed the designated time back. Possibly rowdy parents were unable to find their seats because of excitement. And as ashamed as Harry was, he hoped that a child had thrown a fit about performing because that always ate uptime.

His fingertips tapped in a staccato pattern against the rim of the wheel while the other pinched the skin of his bottom lip between his index and thumb. Sweat formed on his hairline, only then did he notice the heat turned up to the highest level from the night before. Harry adjusted the knob, feeling immense coolness from the air vents, thinking once more when the light turned green.

It was an asshole move to honk 0.001 before the light turned green, but every nerve in his being urged Harry to move faster and quicker. He really wished that he could snap his fingers to erase the traffic ahead of him, his mind immediately crossing the bridge to wonder if there was even any parking at the lot--but that was a problem that he’ll handle once he gets out of the congested roadway.

Harry knew better than to text and drive, knowing that his attention span wasn’t meant to be split. Not when his gaze was wild on the road, eyes bouncing back and forth from the time to the seemingly endless traffic. He attached his phone on the car mount, speaking hoarsely to ask Siri to ‘call Y/N’

After the call went straight to voicemail, Harry spewed the words clawing up his throat, “Hello? Y/N? It’s Harry. I’m sorry that I didn’t make it on time. S-something came up and I’m runnin’ a bit late--fucking shit!”

His foot slammed hard on the brake pedal when a sneaky traffic light switched to red. “Sorry I-I’m almost there,”

The beep sounded a few seconds after. Harry was grateful because he had no more words to say after that, realizing that whatever he had to say had to be spoken in person. It was much more sincere--and with the way, his chest was being burdened with guilt---apologies over the phone were never going to fix this.

“Mumma! Dada!” Halo squealed, running over to the both of them. Y/N and Connor were down on one knee, greeting Halo from her height with an engulfing hug with the child in the middle.

The medal on her chest bounced against her body, wrapping her short arms around both of their necks. The couple showered her chubby cheeks with endless kisses, making Halo giggle with delight.

“I’m so proud of you, angel,” Y/N spoke, grazing a thumb over her hairline. Connor handed her a mini-bouquet of flowers which she accepted with glee. “Thank you!”

The dance teacher, Mrs. Dabney, approached the couple armed with compliments for little Halo.

“She truly does deserve that award. Halo comes to class with a friendly aura. Always eager to learn,” Mrs. Dabney shared, evoking a heartwarming feeling in both Connor and Y/N. “You two did a great job raising her,”

Y/N blushed, glancing in amazement at her child. Connor chuckled, kissing Y/N’s temple, “It’s mostly her doing. Such an angel,”

Halo’s grip loosened the slightest bit on Y/N’s and Connor’s hand, zoning out when the adults got into specifics of the choreography and future tuition prices due to the expansion of the dance studio. Looking around to see the families celebrating with the performers, Halo couldn’t help but let curiosity take over her.

Where was Harry?

“It was great seeing you guys,” Mrs. Dabney concluded, rubbing Y/N’s shoulder softly.

Connor examined the emptying room, seeing the families exit through the doors, probably heading out for dinner. The rumbling of his tummy reminded him he was hungry too.

“Ready to go, love?” He asked. Y/N nodded, pursing her lips at Halo’s sad expression.

“Yeah, it’d be best to take this off of her mind,” She kneeled down to Halo’s level, lifting her wobbly chin. Y/N’s heart shattered upon seeing the teary irises staring back at her, “He didn’t come, Mumma. Hawwy didn’t come,”

Halo’s tiny whimpers were a stab to the heart, nearly dropping her mini-bouquet as she sobbed into her mothers’ arms. Her salty tears damped the skin of her neck. “I know, bubba,”

Y/N made eye contact with Connor, who offered her a sympathetic smile, stroking the nape of Halo’s neck in a comforting manner.

Connor crouched down as well, muttering quiet phrases of ‘it’s okay, angel. “How about we get something cake, yeah? ‘Know y’like those, don’t you?”

Halo lifted her splotchy face-off of Y/N, swiping a small finger under her eyes. “A cake?

Her pretty pupils dilated with the light, as well as the prospective concept of her favourite treat dangling under her nose. “Yeah, baby. A chocolate cake,” Y/N voiced out, aiming to remove the pain from the little girls’ heart.

“That’s right, Halo. You can have as much as you’d like,”

Y/N squinted her eyes, she really wasn’t up to a sugar-high Halo nearing bedtime but she guesses it was better than nursing a mopey one. Connor mouthed a ‘what?’, his grin betraying him.

“Alright, let’s go,”

Harry frantically rammed his thumb on the key fob to lock his car. The latch of the door barely grazed past the edge of his sleeve before it slammed shut. He inhaled deeply, not taking notice of the nearly empty parking lot as he ran as fast as he could. Harry’s many experienced years of physical activity--including yoga, football (soccer) and early morning jogs-- have made this so much easier on his calves and asthmatic lungs.

“Fuck,” He whispered out, tightly closing his eyes, backtracking the progress he had made. He unlocked the car, hastily walking over to the passenger’s side to retrieve Honey the Bear situated on the leather seat. With the stuffed animal gripped tightly in his hand, Harry boosted his speed once again towards the entrance.

He stopped in his tracks abruptly when a family opened the door from the inside, almost hitting him square in the nose if his fast reflexes didn’t halt his frame. Harry smiled apologetically, large hands clasping in front of him as he bowed slightly to show sincerity. He could see the flash of recognition whizz past the man’s eyes.

Before he could say anything, the little girl coming to about hip level tugged on his pants, reflecting his attention to her. Harry quickly slipped past the opening, adjusting his vision to the dim lighting. He jogged down the slanted flooring, the carpet aiding him not to skid, especially since he was not wearing sneakers.

Harry panted with exertion, feeling the uneasiness weighing in from the tips of his fingertips, buzzing through his forearms and embedding itself in his taut biceps. His shoulders slumped, using his arms to propel himself towards the front faster. The emptiness of the room should already tell him what he was frightened to face. However, Harry wouldn’t let this stop him.

He dashed straight to the backstage area, not caring if he was caught since he really wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. Still clutching the toy in his palms, he peeked his head in every room he found only to conclude that it was barren of life, lights switched off and the only sound that echoed was the radio somewhere in the area.

Harry could feel his slim hopes dwindle down the drain. He rested his lumbar on the wooden stage, staring at the Honey the Bear and wondering if it was worth it to miss Halo’s recital for selfish reasons. But was it really selfish?

Halo would have a half-sibling. She would be an older sister. Surely, it wasn’t too selfish of a deed, right?

He sighed lowly. Disappointment showing with the way Harry closed his green eyes in realization. The sound of rolling wheels snapped him out of his destructive thoughts, making contact with the janitor sweeping the dusted floor covered in pink confetti and ruffles. The broom shifted the dirt into one area.

The janitor took note of the paper that Harry held in his hand--his ticket that granted him access to the venue. “A bit late, huh?”

Harry chuckled bitterly at the sarcastic humour. Of course, he was too late, emphasized by the emptiness of the room and the barren reverberation of his voice.

“Just a bit, I guess.”

“Got a lot to make up for, then?” The man asked him, whistling during the pauses they took in the conversation.

Harry nodded, nudging his chin outwards. “S’messy out there, yeah?”

“After every show,”

Harry glanced around at the amount of tidying there was to do, halting suddenly at the row near the stage. He briskly walked over the little ways towards the spot, focusing his gaze on the stickman drawing on the blank paper, moving slightly with the wind.

“Harry”

The label at the centre of the page was capitalized in black marker with stars around his name. Brown circles of curly hair rested on the oblong shaped face that Halo had drawn. His arms, legs and body were thin lines but the smile on the drawings’ face was wide--similar to the one Halo had drawn in her bedroom. The sheet was crumbled, creasing more with the compression of Harry’s grip.

He messed up. Really bad.

With a sleeping Halo nuzzled under the crook of Connor’s arm, the little family cuddle on the soft cushions of the couch with a Barbie Mermaidia movie playing on the screen.

It was only about halfway through the plot when Halo fell asleep. Her hair was freshly washed, smelling like grapefruit and berries. The tendrils of her hair were released from the tight bun which sat at the top of her head for the majority of the night.

Her tired body was exhausted from the activities of the day, begging for relaxation and sleep that came easily with the way her tummy was filled with yummy food. Halo mumbled something in her sleep when the doorbell rang. The loud sound ringing through the house.

Connor hummed in his sleep, shifting his neck to rest more comfortably on the neck of the couch. Y/N rubbed her eyes clearly, checking the time and wondering who could possibly be ringing the doorbell at this hour. She stretched her arms over her head, releasing a sleepy yawn.

She stuffed her feet into her slippers, shuffling the soft footwear towards the front door. Y/N peaked through the hole to find Harry’s face filled with worry. Rolling her eyes, Y/N unlocked the barricade, swinging the door open.

“What do you want?”

“Look, before you say anything,”

Harry paused, looking up at Y/N with a pleading gaze.

“I told you not to hurt her. I told you that you had one chance and you messed that up,”

“I know but I was--” Harry shut his mouth instantly. What was his excuse?

Y/N raised a brow, annoyance wafting from her body language and the firm tone of her voice. “Well?”

He gulped hard, shown by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “There was traffic. . .”

The woman in front of him laughed humorously, “Oh there was traffic? That’s what you’re going with? You could’ve left your house early, you know?”

He agreed with her, “I know, but I--Camille, s-she told me--”

“Camille?’

Y/N crossed her arms, kicking off the doorframe where she previously rested her body.

Scratching the nape of his neck nervously, Harry meekly responded. “Camille said that she wanted to start a family. She didn’t want to before but she must’ve changed her mind,”

Harry’s usually syrupy speech increased in speed. The information swirling around Y/N’s head as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. He missed his daughter’s recital for what?

Y/N shook her head to herself. There was absolutely no way that she could get herself to think that Harry was capable of doing that but the facts were stacking up against him.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” She spoke, hating the way a pleading tone was drifting in and out. “Oh God, you did!”

Harry didn’t say anything; he could barely move. He stayed stoic and let his silence do the talking.

“You missed your daughter’s recital to have sex?” Y/N said incredulously, trying to keep her volume down to no wake up the sleeping individuals in the living room. “You’re despicable,”

“Y/N, you have to understand. I just wanted--,” Harry paused, his gaze landing on the small child creeping behind her mum.

Y/N snapped her neck to look behind her, seeing Halo walking over towards them in the chilly night air. “I’m sorry, did Mumma wake you up, bub?” She stroked her head softly, feeling Halo nod.

“Hawwy?”

“Hi, my love,” Harry greeted, crouching down to get closer to her. However, the child moved away from him, hiding behind her mothers’ leg. Harry felt the pinch in his heart at the action.

“You didn’t go,” Halo said, stating the obvious, yet both Harry and Y/N knew that the statement ran deeper beneath the surface. “You pwomised Mumma you’d come. I was waiting fo’ you,”

“I know, baby,” He cooed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t make it, angel. I promise I’ll come to the next one,”

Y/N snickered under her breath, like hell she was inviting him again. Harry stared at her briefly with pain in his eyes.

“Look who I brought,” He revealed Honey the Bear in her sight, giving a smile in hopes that that would make everything better. Halo merely stared at the toy in his hand, a sad pout on her lips. She was even hesitant to make eye contact with Harry.

With a bit of coaxing, Halo took the bear from Harry, inspecting the animal with a careful gaze before throwing it on the dirty ground. Y/N tensed at the action while Harry audibly gasped.

“I don’t want it and I don’t want you!” Halo ran back inside the house, disappearing through the wall that separated the living room.

Harry slowly picked up the dirtied fur, holding it by the clean area. Y/N felt bad for him but she knew that he deserved it. There was only so much she can do to console the child to forgive him and Halo was pretty adamant about not doing so from their talk earlier.

“I hope it was worth it, Harry.”

“No no no, please. Give me one more chance,” Harry slumped his knobby knees on the welcome mat, grasping at Y/N’s exposed ankles from the short stature of her pyjama pants.

Y/N tried to kick him off, but he was insisting. “Get off of me, Harry!”

“Not until you give me another chance. I can fix this,”

“No, you can’t,” Y/N stayed firm, “I made it very clear that if you hurt her, it’s over. And you did. Over what? So you can have sex while Halo spent her time looking for you? Do you know how helpless I felt seeing the way she looked at the door, hoping that you would walk through?”

Harry expected that, but it did not do grace to the guilt that was mounting.

“She fell, Harry. Halo stumbled on her spin and she fell because she saw the empty seats beside me and saw that you weren’t there,”

Harry stood up to his full height, staring at Y/N and waiting for her to tell him that it was all made up. “I-I didn’t mean to,”

“Of course, you didn’t. You never mean anything, do you, Harry?” Y/N stated exasperatedly, “You didn’t mean it when you said you loved me, that we would wed and that we would start a family. You didn’t mean jack-shit when you promised not to hurt Halo--your daughter--but you did. You didn’t mean it then and you don’t mean it now. So please, save both of us the energy because we both know that you’ll break it over and over again,”

“T-that’s not true,”

“Is it not? You hurt me. I’m still hurting from what you did to me and I tried so hard to protect Halo from you. I gave you a chance because I couldn’t take the burden that Halo might never meet her real father and this is what you do?” Y/N closed the door behind her when she took notice of her voice rising.

“All you do is hurt people, Harry! You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You wanted a family so bad that you leave the one you could’ve had to start a new one,”

“That’s bullshit,” Harry said more firmly. “You would’ve never let me back into your life and you know it,”

“That’s not the point! I wanted you to be present in her life, not mine,” Y/N coughed a little, lifting a balled fist towards her mouth, “We have a child together for God’s sake. I love you, Harry. I still do and I don’t think I’ll ever stop because every time I look at Halo, I’m reminded of you. The good, the bad, the happy and painful memories. I can see it all playing in my head when she looks at me with those big green eyes or gives me a smile and your dimple pops into my mind,”

Y/N sighed, “I love you but I know my limit. I wanted you around for Halo, and now--I understand why we would have never worked out. You’re too selfish,”

“Selfish? That’s hardly fair, love. I tried my best, didn’t I?”

“That’s not enough. You’re too enthralled by the idea of this perfect family that you run back and forth between Halo and I or Camille. When the other doesn’t play out the way that you want, you change gears so fast to the other. That’s selfish in and of itself.”

Y/N lingered her hand on the golden doorknob, twisting the mechanic to open the door. “You can’t just leave when things don’t go your way, Harry. That’s not how it works.”

“What does?” Harry stuttered out.

“That’s not how love works,” Y/N smiled sadly, looking into his eyes as if trying to take him back to their relationship years prior. “That’s not how a family works.”

Harry’s expression crumpled, wrinkled his eyes and dampened his rosy cheeks.

“I hope you find your happiness one day, Harry. It wasn’t with me and it’s not with Halo. Wherever it is, don’t mess it up as you did with us.”

Harry was rendered speechless.

His mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. The arm of Honey the Bear dangling from his fingertips as he watched the door shut behind her.

Over the years, Harry had tried desperately to get in contact with Y/N and Halo. All he wanted was his family back. His relationship with Camille was spiralling down the drain with each passing day, dwindling hopelessly, and Harry felt helpless.

He had overheard that Y/N and Connor had moved houses-- somewhere a few miles away. He had persuaded her old landlady to give him her forwarding address, and he had flown out that very weekend. He wanted his family back-- no, he desperately needed them.

He doesn't know what exactly he's expecting when he shows up at the doorstep, but Y/N's harsh tone of voice and unwelcoming demeanour was not it. He had hoped-- prayed, that there might be a sliver of a chance that she might forgive him; that Halo might forgive him. He hadn't seen the little girl since that night; Y/N hadn't allowed it.

"Come here again and there will be a restraining order sitting on your doorstep, Harry, I promise you that. And unlike some people, I keep my promises."

"A restraining order--? Y/N that's not fair!"

"Take it up legally if you'd like. Want to have a custody battle? Bring it on. Let's see whose side the judge is on after they find out that you cheated on me while I was pregnant with Halo."

"I didn't know you were bloody pregnant, dammit!" He yelled, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Oh wow! That makes it all better! You didn't know I was pregnant so you cheated on me. Nice. Great going, Harry!"

"Please for heaven's SAKE stop fucking calling me that!"

"Get out, Harry. Leave. I don't want you here. She doesn't either. And if you think I'm joking about getting a restraining order-- think again. I'm serious. Do not come near my daughter."

"She's my daughter too!," He all but shouted, "you can't keep her away from me!"

"Watch me."

And with that, she slams the door shut in his face, ignoring his incessant knocking and pleading through the wooden panel.

It was years later.

It was a cold February morning, and Harry was fresh out of a hot shower, and he put on a woollen jumper to keep from freezing.

The weather was distasteful, dull and cold, but a smile pulled on Harry's lips. It was her birthday. His little girl's birthday. So what if he hadn't seen her in 10 years? So what if Y/N hadn't spoken to him in a decade? Tears stung in his eyes at the thought that he was missing yet another of his baby girl's birthdays. Except, she wasn't really a baby anymore. She turned 13 today.

There was nobody on the planet he felt more love for than that little girl, of that he was certain.

So when Harry sat down with his letter pad and ink pen, his thoughts drifted to the short span of time he had spent with her. He reminisced on her sweet smile, the tiny dimple that carved into her cheek. Her tiny lips quirked into open-mouthed laughter. He walked to his closet and picked up Honey the Bear from among his clothes.

"Hi," he grinned, talking to the bear as if he were 5.

He sat the bear in his lap and sat at his dining table, and began to write. To his daughter, his little love. He knew that a letter wouldn't make up for what he'd put her through. He didn't even know if he was going to send her this letter, or if Y/N would let her read it.

But what's the harm in trying?

From 'Hawwy',

Hi, my love

______

Reading this again brought a lot of emotions to the surface

[makebank]

secrets & suds

request: long request but to summarize jj is involved with a kook but hasn’t moved past hooking up, he gets in trouble for pope sinking the boat, and she decides to help out. 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of smut but none, cussing, typos, angst, fluff

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he throws his shirt over his disheveled head. His skin is slightly damp and glistening and some of his tufts of hair plastered to his forehead. “Gotta bounce, see you tomorrow?”

You beam at the blond from across the room and send him a smirk, “You always do”. He rushes out of your house just before dawn. JJ was always good about making sure to leave before your parents woke up, specifically your dad. You never minded the class division, but it was easy to say from your spot on the kook throne. You take a moment to regain your breath then toss yourself back onto your silky king size bed. Your satin pajama set lay wrinkled off the side of your bed, you knew he was going to love ripping off the matching outfit as soon as he saw you. 

For some time now you and JJ have had a little arrangement. And by arrangement that meant he came over most nights to fool around. Sometimes you’d get him to watch a movie or cuddle, but it was always interrupted by your parents waking up or his friends texting him for something. You weren’t exactly sure when you started to fall for the troublemaker, but it came with ease. He seemed so rough and mysterious, which is what amplified your want for him in the first place. But after closer observation, he is kind, gentle, and would do anything for you. Of course you knew it would never happen. He is too caught up in the division and himself to even want anything more than this. Not that you don’t love the time you get with him, but you crave more. 

You sigh as you stand up wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe. Peering out of your bedroom window, you watch JJ sprint across your lawn and expertly hop the high gate. 

-

Alternating between mindlessly scrolling through your phone and checking out your window, you grow impatient. JJ had never missed coming over without texting. You were worried something happened or maybe he was just bored of you. It was getting late, so you send a single text hoping he was okay and try to lull yourself to sleep.

-

The next morning you wake up and for a moment your fears weren’t there. Slowly blinking your eyes open, it all comes back to you. You reach for your phone hoping for some relief. To your dismay no new messages were from him. You jump out of bed and rush to take a quick shower. Some slight snooping wouldn’t hurt. 

You definitely weren’t close with any of JJ’s friends, but you did know where to find them. You enter the Wreck looking overwhelming overdressed in your designer shoes and this season’s newest sundress. You find a vacant booth and make yourself cozy until a curly haired girl you recognize as one of his best friends comes to get your drink order. After she introduces herself, it clicks. Kiara right you had a class with her freshman year of high school. Hm small world. She comes back with your coffee and asks what you’d like to order.

“Have you seen JJ lately?” you awkwardly ask. She shoots you a confused look before settling into a glare. “What’s it to you?” You stumble on your words, “Oh… nothing. He just normally mows our lawn on Wednesday mornings, but he didn’t show up. Just thought I’d ask”. She seems semi satisfied with your answer and doesn’t press for more detail. “Well, he’s busy. Not that it’s any of your business anyway. So do you want something to eat or not?” You weren’t sure why she was being so hostile it's not like you two ever had any direct problems. Maybe she was just being protective of her friend. You weren’t going to take it to heart. 

You slump down in your seat resigning to the fact you weren’t going to get any answers from her. “No, I think I’m good with just this. Thanks”. She huffs whatever and walks away. Just as you're about to leave you see a frantic boy rush up to the counter to Kiara. You knew it was Pope from the pictures JJ has shown you. He looks like he’s on the verge of meltdown. 

“I can’t believe JJ covered for me. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. I feel so bad! What do I do?” He’s running a mile a minute and Kiara tells him to lower his voice. She brings him into the back room to comfort him away from eavesdropping ears. However, you heard it all and can’t comprehend what happened that he would owe that much money. Nonetheless, you conclude that you’re going to find a way to help him, wherever he is. You drop a couple twenties leaving a hefty tip and rush out of the restaurant. 

Walking down the street you bump into the three bozos that rule your side of the island. They ogle you and shout their vulgar ‘compliments’ at you. You scoff but are well accustomed to their barbarian-like nature. As you strut away, you overhear Rafe yelling at Topper. “Dude, get over the boat! You won’t even hit on y/n with us. That Maybank kid will have to pay one way or another”. What was with today and perfect timing? You thought you were going to have to dig a little deeper.

You walk home to think of a plan. You had lots of money, but your parents would notice if you took that big of a chunk out without something nice to show in return. There was no way you could get that much, but you could find a way to get fifty percent. That would be enough to get the authorities off his back and give you time to talk down the Thorton’s. You decide you could easily sneak a couple thousand without your parents noticing, but you were going to have to figure out a way to come up with the rest. 

It dawns on you after spending all your childhood watching teen rom coms. A car wash! Everyone was always searching for one after a storm. Plus, it wouldn’t take much but a simple tweet and an instagram story to have people lining the block. You immediately text the girls’ group chat to set the plan for tomorrow. 

- 

You wake up with a spring in your step ready to put your plan into action. You frown a little knowing it was another day with no word from JJ. You hope he’s safe and just taking time to himself. 

Putting on your skimpiest bikini and shorts you gawk at yourself in the mirror. It’s not like you had a problem with showing yourself off, you just knew the attention you were in for today regardless. You were doing this for JJ though, you wanted to help him out and show him there’s a lot more to you than having money and pretending to be perfect. 

You greet all your friends and start setting up. As cars start to line up, you can’t help but giggle to yourself thinking of the stereotypical ‘Cherry Pie’ or “Milkshakes’ playing in the background of every car wash scene. You get to work flirting and scrubbing cars as you all work for every dollar. The nice thing about Figure 8 was that they were willing to spend whatever. Just as you were about to head to another car you hear someone shouting your name.

You whip around to see a red faced and furious JJ. “You’re alive!” You try to lighten the tension. “What the hell are you doing y/n?” You frown in confusion. “What do you mean? A car wash?” He doesn’t seem satisfied with your sarcasm. “You're half naked out here and all these guys can’t keep their hands to themselves,”  he remarks annoyed while flailing his arms. You grin for a moment realizing he’s jealous, then it dawns on you, “First of all, you just disappeared off the face of the earth for days. No text or anything. Second, since when you do you care about what other guys say to me?” He crosses his arms over his body clearly irritated by your logical retort. “It’s none of your business. And I don’t care”. All the energy drains from you at the impact of his words. “Fine. Then keep not caring and leave me alone.” You swivel around stalking off to another car leaving him alone. Even if he didn’t want you, you were determined to finish your job and then move on.

You turn over your shoulder to see JJ storming off in the other direction. Your heart aches at seeing him actually leave. At least you knew he was breathing now. The next car pulls up with Pope in it. “What was that all about?” Your eyes widen at one of his friends catching you. He chuckles, “It’s okay I know about you guys. He tells me everything”. You soften knowing you weren’t a complete secret. “I’m not sure. He’s upset with me though.” He sends you an empathetic smile, “Don’t worry. He’s dealing with a lot right now. He’ll cool down eventually.” You nod your head, “Yeah, I heard about that. That’s actually what this is all for,” you admit sheepishly. Pope’s eyebrows raise with confusion. “My mom had me bring the car, because she said it was raising money for the high school”. Yikes. “That’s my bad. I kinda said it was for whatever people would listen to, so people would come”. He laughs, “Quick thinking y/l/n. You want some help?” Now it's your turn to laugh. “I’m sure we could find you some short shorts somewhere.” He parks the car off to the side and grabs a sponge to contribute. 

The rest of the day goes by with a breeze while joking with Pope and the girls. The last car drives off and you all plop on the curb for a break. You dry off your hands and start counting the money. You could almost cry happy tears. You raised over four thousand dollars. You thank everyone and promise to buy them mimosas at brunch tomorrow. For spoiled rich kids, they sure knew how to help someone in need. Pope pulls you into a side hug, “Thanks for doing this for him”. You smile squeezing him back, “thanks for helping”. 

After putting on some real clothes you stalk off to the Thorton’s. They promise they’ll leave JJ alone about the couple thousand left so it can be paid off slowly, now that they have a down payment for another boat. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you did all you could. 

-

JJ was relaxing at John B.'s when he got a call. After hanging up, he’s elated and full of energy. He yells to the pogues, “Guys they said I don’t have to serve any time for the boat!” They all jump up excited and ask how. “They said over half of the debt has been paid, so they said I’ll have to sign up for some payment plan. But this means it won’t be on my record or anything”. They all join him in a group hug congratulating him. John B. pipes up, “Who paid it?” JJ stops for a moment considering that it wasn’t just magic, and the only person he knew that had money that knew was Kie. “Did you have your parents do it Kie? I seriously can’t thank you enough,” he picks her up into a giant hug. She shakes her head once he lets her down. “No, I wish I could’ve though. Sorry man.” 

Pope is smirking thinking about his day yesterday trying not to blow his cover. JJ notices. “What do you know, Pope?” He just shakes his head not budging. JJ throws his arm around his neck putting him into a choke hold wrestling move. Kie and John B. are enjoying watching them fight until Pope taps out. “Fine! It was y/n. That’s what the whole giant parade of cars getting washed was”. JJ freezes speechless. He turns on his heels and instantly busts out of the chateau. 

Meanwhile, you’re getting into comfy clothes preparing yourself for a lonely movie marathon tonight. Just as you settle into your thousand thread count sheets, your door swings open making you jump. “JJ you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” He crosses your abnormally large room beelining to you. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. Your hand naturally falls to his arm as you allow him to passionately lead your lips. You pull away gasping for air. “What was that for?” 

He sits down next to you. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for disappearing and not texting you. And I’m really sorry for being such a dick yesterday at the car wash. I didn’t know you were doing all that for me. Either way though I shouldn’t have acted like that. Thank you for what you did. It means a lot. I’ll repay you I promise”. You smile rubbing your thumb against his hand. “I forgive you. You don’t need to repay me, we worked for it. You were right though, it wasn’t my business”. He shakes his head, “I wasn’t right. I like you a lot. I’m stupid for not saying it before. I just didn’t know how to tell you about all my issues and thought I’d scare you off.”

You lean over kissing him on his cheek to soothe his obvious tension. “You can’t scare me off. And I really like you too. You can trust me with your secrets, but I’ll try not to meddle anymore if you don’t want to tell me.” Grabbing your arms to scoot you closer, he brings you in for another long and deep kiss. “Don’t worry. You can know all my secrets now,” he winks as he pulls his shirt off easing you back onto the bed. 

taglist in reblog, join in my bio

[whumpmatsus]

hush. [ Wakabamatsu ]

In which Jyushimatsu wakes up with a migraine, but his big brother is going to take good care of him, so... it’s okay.

Jyushimatsu doesn’t usually wake up easily, unless he hears Ichimatsu’s voice or all the rest of his brothers are arguing.

He’s so full of energy for most of the day, it’s like he recharges at night by sleeping so deeply. Even going to bed with the lights on doesn’t bother him like it might for, say, Ichimatsu. He’s also typically asleep before everyone else… though that doesn’t necessarily translate into being awake earlier.

Tonight, or maybe it’s really early in the morning, he’s woken up by the most excruciating physical pain he’s ever felt.

It feels like someone’s jabbing an ice pick into the left side of his head, right above his eye. The pain isn’t repetitive; rather, it doesn’t seem to actually stop at all. It’s just constant and there and awful.

Worse yet is the fact that it feels like the world is spinning. The sensation makes him panicky, his heart pounding against his ribs, because he knows he isn’t moving. He’s still as can be and it’s everything else that’s moving. Isn’t it?

He exerts what he thinks is an enormous amount of willpower into closing his eyes and clenching his fists. Maybe he’s dreaming? That’s it. He’s just dreaming about being on a boat or something.

It only takes a few seconds for him to decide that is not what’s going on. The rocking sensation is getting worse, and he’s not waking up, so this can’t be a dream.

He takes a breath and throws his hand to the side, frantically searching for his older brother beside him. “Ch… Choromatsu-nii-san…!” He tries to keep his eyes shut. If he opens them again, the pain in his head is going to intensify.

There’s a tired groan from beside him, and the sounds of Choromatsu trying to get his bearings. “Huhm… mmh… Jyushimatsu? Aaah…” He yawns. “Is everything okay?”

“No… no, I don’t feel good…” He wishes he could feel prideful about complaining or guilty for waking his big brother up. Normally, he would at least try to suffer on his own for a bit before going to one of his brothers. Instead, the pain overtakes everything else.

“Aaaah… it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’m right here to take care of you, alright?” Choromatsu is careful as always when he knows one of the others is feeling poorly, and he scoots closer. “Come here. Will it make you feel better if I hold you for a little bit?”

Jyushimatsu isn’t sure. However, as with most other situations, a hug certainly can’t hurt when he isn’t feeling well. “Ahahah… y-yeah, maybe… my head really hurts.” He turns over into his brother’s embrace, expecting to have an easier time calming down once he’s nestled against Choromatsu’s chest.

Choromatsu’s arms reach out to pull Jyushimatsu closer. “Ah, no… I’m sorry, Jyushi. It’s okay… I’ll rub it and maybe you can get back to sleep.”

That sounds nice, but it doesn’t get a chance to happen. Any possibility of peace evaporates as soon as Jyushimatsu rolls onto his side. He opens his eyes briefly only for his vision to wobble and darken. The spinning he’s been feeling takes half a second to blossom into full-on nausea, then he practically chokes on a gag.

It’s all the warning either of them get before suddenly he’s vomited into the space between them ― and, more embarrassingly, he’s pretty sure it splashed Choromatsu in the process.

“Ah! J-Jyushimatsu!” Despite what just happened, Choromatsu moves to pull Jyushimatsu closer to him in an attempt to comfort him, particularly when it becomes clear that his poor little brother has started to wail. “Oh, my God… Jyushi… h-hey, hey, it’s okay! D-don’t cry, please!”

The sound of someone, or maybe the entire rest of their brood, moaning awake on the other side of Choromatsu serves to do nothing except make the pounding in Jyushimatsu’s head louder. His own sobbing makes pressure against his skull and it’s sharp and why can’t he stop?

“Hey, what gives? Are you two assclowns trying to wake the whole fucking neighborhood?” Osomatsu’s voice is groggy and irritated, and it’s just one more thing driving that ice pick deeper into Jyushimatsu’s head.

Jyushimatsu can feel the vibration from the growl Choromatsu gives toward their eldest. “God, would you calm your tits? Jyushimatsu threw up.”

“In the futon?!”

“Are you kidding me right now? He couldn’t help it!”

Osomatsu whines for a second, which is exactly no help to Jyushimatsu’s headache, but then he just yawns. “Geez… what happened??”

“I don’t know…” Choromatsu’s hand combs lightly through his brother’s hair, though it’s not any significant relief. Mostly it makes Jyushimatsu feel less self-conscious; if Choromatsu isn’t freaking out and moving away, he’s probably more worried about Jyushimatsu’s wellbeing than with the fact that he and the futon just got puked on. “He woke me up and said he didn’t feel good, that his head hurt. Then he rolled over so I could hold him, and… threw up.”

Jyushimatsu whimpers pitifully, trying to wipe at his mouth. “I f-feel seasick… my eyes are all blurry… my head hurts really bad…”

Choromatsu lets out a quiet, “Oh…” like he’s had some big moment of realization about what’s going on. “Jyushi… did you feel sick to your stomach before you moved?”

“Mnh-mnh. It just felt like… the world was spinning… still feels like that. I thought I was d-dreaming about being on a boat… then when I moved… my stomach went all flip-floppy… feels a little better now.”

“Okay, okay… that’s good, at least. What about your head? Is the pain mostly on one side?”

“Uh-huh. Like someone’s… trying to drill into my brain right above my left eye…”

“Aw. Gosh. Well, in that case…” He leans down to press a kiss to Jyushimatsu’s head, and pats his back in reassurance. “Sounds like a migraine to me. Like a headache times a thousand, complete with a side of vertigo and aura. I’m sorry Osomatsu is such a dick that he yelled at us.”

“WHAT?! I’m not a dick! I’m just tired!”

Choromatsu hisses as the noise makes Jyushimatsu flinch. “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive, you jackass. And would you show some Goddamn concern for your baby brother over here? You’re talking loud and making him more miserable.”

“You just―” Osomatsu stops dead as he seems to realize that he’s literally just proving Choromatsu’s point. “― Ah, shit, sorry, Jyushi. Uhhh. What are we supposed to do for this? Besides get out of the futon and go set up camp in the living room for the night?”

“Yeah,” comes a low, sleep-husky voice Jyushimatsu recognizes as Ichimatsu’s. “Is there anything we can do? The last time I had a headache that made me blow chunks, I was out of it for the rest of the day and still felt all hazy once it was gone.”

Jyushimatsu almost starts crying again at the thought of feeling so bad for an entire day. He settles for sniffling and tucking his painful head under Choromatsu’s chin.

The action gets the third eldest’s attention, as he’s immediately pulled in closer and gets another kiss on the head. “Aah, well… most of the time, a migraine kind of has to go away on its own. We can try giving him painkillers and making it as dark as possible in here and keeping things quiet…”

Totty snorts. “So keep Osomatsu-nii-san away from him, then.”

“Oh, you two-faced little―”

“Osomatsu-nii-san! Where are your manners? Jyushimatsu-nii-san’s head!”

“I don’t have manners at 5 in the morning on a Monday!”

“Dear brothers, why are we all sniping at each other? Should we not instead be trying to help our little Jyushimatsu?”

“Like you could be any help. Just being around you has to be causing him more pain, Shittymatsu.”

���Cut it the fuck out, all of you!” Choromatsu’s voice comes out in a vicious whisper as he continues to cradle Jyushimatsu. “None of you are helping right now. You guys just… get your pillows, get some extra blankets, and head into the living room. I’ll get Jyushimatsu and I changed, we’ll move over to a clean part of the futon, and I’ll spend the rest of the night in here with him.”

There’s a distinct pause, which almost sounds louder than if anyone had said anything. Finally Ichimatsu speaks up again. “Are you sure? I can stay.”

“No, no, it’s okay, Ichimatsu. I’ve got it. You know I’ll take good care of him.”

Ichimatsu lets out a soft sigh. “… Yeah, I know. Let us know if we can help.”

“I will. You guys go try to get some sleep, okay?”

The other four murmur some well wishes, probably trying not to make things worse, and the sound of the door sliding open is sort of like a knife cutting through Jyushimatsu’s mind. He curls up tighter against Choromatsu, looking for protection.

Though, unfortunately, based on what his big brother said a minute ago, there’s nothing that can really be done to take away the pain. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sniffling again. “I didn’t m-mean to throw up on you…”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Jyushimatsu, it’s okay. You don’t feel well. It’s not like you wanted to do it.” Choromatsu rubs Jyushimatsu’s back a few times, giving a cautious squeeze to his whole body. “You don’t need to be sorry. Now, listen. I’m gonna close the curtains and blinds and go change my clothes real fast, then I’m gonna try to see if I can get you cleaned up and change your shirt, too. You’re a little dirty… I don’t want you getting nauseous again from the smell. After that I’m gonna carry you to the other side of the futon, and… we’ll make sure the other side gets cleaned up later when you feel better.”

Okay. Okay, that sounds like not too bad of a plan. He can do that, right? It sounds like Choromatsu is going to be the one doing most of the work, so Jyushimatsu shouldn’t have to move too much. That would be ideal; he feels like if he moves to roll onto his back or anything, he might be sick again. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay. Good, uh… hm… if we can get some painkillers in you, it might help take the edge off the migraine. Do you think maybe you could get some medicine down with a few sips of water?”

“I… I dunno… maybe.” The thought of swallowing anything isn’t pleasant. But if it could potentially take a little bit of the pain away, he can try. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He might hurl again? At least he’ll have given it a shot.

He feels Choromatsu pull away from him. “Alright, we’ll try it, then. I’ll bring a trashcan in here just in case you throw up again. And, ah, let’s see… sometimes an ice pack against your head helps. Want me to bring one?”

He barely resists the urge to nod, because he knows that would be a terrible idea right now. “Mhm.”

“Alright. You just… lie still and don’t move, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me see if I can get it a little darker in here…”

There’s a brief rattling sound that comes along with Choromatsu trying to shut the blinds, then a fabric-shifting noise from the curtains.

Instantly the soft sunlight which was trying to filter in is blocked. Despite the fact that it’s not totally pitch black, it feels like shadows have descended on the room. Cool, greyish shadows that are protecting him from the agony of anything bright.

A few minutes seems kind of like an eternity to Jyushimatsu at the moment. He’s still a little dizzy even with his eyes clamped shut, although the nausea has faded into almost nothing, thank goodness. The sharp pain in his head continues, and he’s partially convinced that it’s going to split him in half.

Everything is awful. He’s used to being the one who can tolerate the most extreme things and often is fully involved in those things. Yet, right now, everything is too much. Even his own thoughts are too loud.

The only movement he makes is to reach up a trembling hand and touch his head in some childish hope that holding it will make the hurt stop. Unlike Choromatsu’s gentle kisses, however, just touching the epicenter of the migraine sends a horrible shockwave of pain through his whole body.

When Choromatsu returns, he returns to his little brother curled up in a ball, breathing deeply and still mewling in intense discomfort.

“Hey, Jyushi… I’m back.” He keeps his voice low as he kneels down, giving another couple of rubs to Jyushimatsu’s back. “You doing okay?”

Ugh, why would he ask that?? Jyushimatsu wants to be angry, he is a little annoyed… but Choromatsu is trying to take care of him. He can’t be too pissed when all his big brother wants is to make him as comfortable as possible. “No… it hurts.”

“Aah, I know, I know… I’m sorry. Is it okay if I try to change your shirt now? I can probably do it without making you sit up, if I’m careful… you’ll have to raise your arms, though.”

“Uh-huh… okay.”

“I will have to sit you up to take the medicine in a minute.” His hand pulls at the bottom of Jyushimatsu’s shirt, starting to roll it up. “I’ve got a trashcan here if you think you’re gonna be sick again. Just give a big squeeze to any part of me you can reach if you need to throw up, okay?”

“Mmh, okay…”

It’s a slow process as Choromatsu gradually manages to get Jyushimatsu’s shirt up off him. Jyushimatsu raises his arms when prompted, and that little motion makes him feel like he’s swaying even more than he already felt like. He’s able to keep them up until his brother gets his arms and head through the new shirt, thank goodness.

How he doesn’t accidentally roll into the mess he made in the futon is beyond him. He mostly credits that to Choromatsu, though. It feels like his big brother is holding him pretty steady, from what he can tell.

“There we go,” Choromatsu sighs, with a sound like he’s dusting his hands off. “Do you think you’ll be okay to sit up and take the medicine?”

Before he can stop himself, a small whine comes out. “I… I changed my mind, Choromatsu-nii-san. I think I’ll puke if I sit up and try to swallow anything…”

Choromatsu’s hand kneads gingerly at the base of Jyushimatsu’s neck. Even among everything else, it’s a comforting gesture. “Hey, hey, that’s fine. The water and medicine will still be here when you feel like you’re okay to take it. I’m just gonna carry you over to the other side of the futon now, okay? I’m gonna pick you up, and I’ll go really slow. You gonna be alright?”

“Mmm… y-yeah, I think so. Not too fast… right?”

“Right. And just tell me if you need me to stop for a second. Here we go, okay?”

Jyushimatsu braces himself for the movement, and true to Choromatsu’s word, he’s lifted up very gingerly, in a series of tiny moves rather than one swift one. He keeps his eyes shut as his brother makes a little adjustment, with one arm under Jyushimatsu’s legs and one supporting his back, and his head cradled against Choromatsu’s chest.

Despite his pain, Jyushimatsu finds the energy to give a weak laugh. “Haha… upsy-daisy…”

Choromatsu chuckles along, a barely-there breath of amusement. “Yeah, upsy-daisy. You remember… that one day when we were all kids, and Mom took us to the beach ― that day it was sunny in the morning but started raining when we’d only been in the water for like half an hour?”

“Oh, yeah… hehe… and then we made a beach in the living room when we got home… because I put a bucketful of sand in our tote bag before we started swimming, hehe.”

“Yeah, that’s right! I remember Osomatsu, Karamatsu, and I each grabbed one of you younger guys… Osomatsu grabbed Totty, and Karamatsu grabbed Ichimatsu, and I grabbed you. We carried you out of the water and into the car, haha… running to get out of the rain as fast as we could.”

After a second, Jyushimatsu is laid down in that same careful way Choromatsu picked him up, and having a clean part of the futon under him feels a lot better. Soon enough his older brother is lying next to him, gingerly guiding him into a hug to comfort him. “I remember holding you in my arms way back then just like I did a minute ago. I held you really close and tried to keep you from getting wet, haha.”

“Mmm.” Jyushimatsu snuggles in closer and buries his face in Choromatsu’s chest to try and shut out whatever light might be left. “I think I remember that, too. Hahah… you’re a good big brother. Trying to keep me safe.”

Choromatsu’s hand strokes through Jyushimatsu’s hair; long, syrupy strokes that feel much better than when he tried to hold his head himself. The ice pack must have been set down close, because something cold and soothing is held against the left side of his head. “W-well, you know… you’re a good little brother… worthy of being kept safe.”

“Haha. All the rest of your little brothers… they can suck it, right?”

He snorts, and thank God, it doesn’t disrupt the peace they’ve both been trying to cultivate. “Aah, no… all my brothers are worthy of being kept safe. Even the jackass eldest and the hollow monster baby. But, I mean… don’t tell them I said that.”

Jyushimatsu breathes in and out a few times as he settles in to hopefully get some sleep. “No, no, no… it’d go to their heads.”

“Heh, good. Speaking of dreaming… let’s try to get some rest, okay? Fingers crossed you’ll be feeling better after a little more sleep. If not, at least you won’t be totally conscious for some of the pain. I’ll take the ice pack off in a few minutes here, and all you have to do is let me know if you need anything. Sound like a plan?”

“Mhm. Nighty night, Choromatsu-nii-san.”

A warm breath of a sigh hits the top of his head. In a way, just having his big brother close like this is more comforting than any other remedy he could have suggested. “Night, Jyushi. Feel better soon or else I’m just gonna have to keep taking care of you.”

[simonsrosebud]

What happens when Kevin goes pro? What does his team think of him? Of Dalton?

okay so like he’s kevin day, and even among professional players that’s a big deal. his mother created the spot that they all play.

and he’s kevin day.

they think highly of him, but they also know he’s the rookie of the team. so while he probably doesn’t need it, they all mentally decide to let him adjust just like they’d do with any other player.

and yeah, he doesn’t need it.

kevin has high expectations, and this doesn’t get cut from that list.

they also play nice off the court because again he’s the new guy. but kevin isn’t that great at making friends.

not to say he’s outright rude, but he only really gets close with a few people from his team. a girl striker, a goalie with the same passion as him, and a backliner who never fails to get kevin’s mark off of him without even having to ask.

most of them know that kevin has a boyfriend. at this point he and dalton have been dating for three years. but dalton’s only been caught in pictures a rare few times thanks to kevin paying one of his agents good money to keep his face out. he doesn’t want him burdened with attention he never asked for.

the first time they meet dalton is during practice four months in. keep in mind, he lives in delaware while kevin’s in nyc.

dalton is visiting for the week when kevin gets into a fight at practice.

okay, no. by a fight, it means one of their backliners christian, decides out of the blue to shove kevin.

kevin turns, “the fuck got into you?”

christian doesn’t answer, because before kevin’s done he’s got an elbow in his face and crushes him into the plexiglass. the back of his head slams the wall, and he gets the wind knocked out of him.

christian gets ripped off of him and kevin takes a step before falling to his knees. he presses his hands to the ground and blinks a few times. he definitely blacked out for a moment there.

there’s bound to be someone who doesn’t like him, but he didn’t expect that.

alice, kevin’s other backliner, drops in front of him, and because he’ll always have some fear ingrained into him he instinctively drops onto his butt and backs himself against the wall away from her.

his coach snaps his fingers in kevin’s face. “focus, look at me, kevin.” he does. “take your helmet off and let cassie take a look at you.”

kevin does so, with shaking hands and- oh. there’s blood. his nose is bleeding.

kevin tilts his head back. he can briefly see alice in the stands on his he phone with someone.

cassie, their medic, stops him from standing up. he closes his eyes and sighs. she cleans him up and they wait for his nose to stop bleeding before checking it out for any breakage.

“looks good.” but she flashes a light in his eyes and does the full nine yards to check him for a concussion.

“i’m suspecting a possible mild concussion but i can’t be sure right now. nose isn’t broken, but you could have a bruise since it got hit hard enough to bleed. i’m gonna look at you again tomorrow morning, i want you taking it easy and-“

the rest of what she says gets drowned out by the court door slamming. dalton comes storming through and running across the court. he’s got a death stare on christian. alice must have told him what happened.

kevin drops the ice from his nose as dalton drops to his knees beside him. “hey.”

“what happened to today being an easy day?” dalton brushes kevin’s hair back, and lets his hand drop to the back of his neck. “is he okay? are you okay?”

the medic fills him in. kevin flits his eyes across the court. everyone is stopped and watching him. their coach is talking to christian in outer court.

dalton slides to sit in front of kevin when cassie leaves. he takes his hands and slides his gloves off. they’re a little bloody. “i could kill him, i’m so mad.” he mumbles.

kevin shakes his head and nudges dalton’s knee with his foot. “not worth it. can’t be loved by everyone.”

dalton makes a face. “let’s go?” kevin nods, do he pulls him up and kisses his cheek. dalton wraps an arm around kevin’s shoulders as they leave the court. the rest of the team has to finish cleaning up equipment and go through their normal port practice rundown before leaving.

as they pass christian, dalton doesn’t care that a good chunk of the team hears him as he says “don’t fuck with my boyfriend again unless you wanna be the one with the bloody nose.” the death stare he gives is lethal. one of the girls on the team catches herself smiling until christian sends her a look.

in the locker room, dalton has kevin sit on the bench after changing while he gathers what he needs. and kevin feels fine, just a headache, but dalton heard the words concussion so he’s making sure kevin doesn’t do anything to risk it. he’ll take care of his boy.

when he zips up kevin’s bag he sits across from him, straddling the bench. kevin’s forehead is on dalton’s shoulder, and his hands on dalton’s hips. “thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbles.

dalton hums and kisses the side of kevin’s head. “i’d drive all the way from delaware if i wasn’t already here.”

“i love you.”

dalton brings kevin’s head up and kisses him gently. “always, baby.”

after kevin gets the okay to play the next morning, he joins the team in the locker room. alice knocks shoulders with him. “quite the boyf you got there.”

kevin’s sitting on the bench wrapping his hand. “what do you mean,” he mumbles. he’s not really paying attention.

“he’s a dead catch is what i mean. tall as fuck, hot, the way he called christian out i was like oh shit you know?” she sits next to him and laces up her shoes. she lowers her voice. “he was also really worried about you when coach called.” kevin lowers his hand. huh? “you mentioned he was here this week. otherwise i wouldn’t have thought to tell coach to call him if they had his number in your records.”

oh.

“i want that someday, you know? you’re so lucky kevin day.” she gently shoves his shoulder. “that kid is so in love with you.”

kevin pauses. “did… has the team said anything about him?”

she shrugs. “i mean, we like him. haven’t really met him. bryce said they talked to him when he came to a game last month, while you were at press duty.”

kevin raises a brow. “and?”

she shrugs. “i dunno. said he’s a cool dude. that’s all they told me.”

kevin nods to himself. bryce is a dork like dalton, he shouldn’t be shocked that they liked him.

“they’re not wrong.” and gets up to grab his gloves and helmet before making his way to the court.

dalton’s watching their practice today because he doesn’t have anything else to do. and because he loves to watch kevin in action.

kevin looks up in the stands and sees him wave. kevin gives him a peace sign, and dalton shoots the middle finger before laughing.

and yeah. he’s definitely a cool dude.

[writingsbychlo]

rapp-ed around your heart (03)

word count; 14,820

summary; mitch has a few revelations about his life while going on a hike, and is realising that maybe there are still things he could enjoy in his life.

notes; after quite the slow burn, I think you’re all really going to enjoy this part. It’s just super sweet, actually.

warnings; none, pure fluff, as we know. 

The Pacific Region

There was a warm presence pressed up behind you, arms wrapped around your body tightly, and sleep was still holding onto you tightly, making you squirm a little as you tried to adjust yourself into the morning. The grip holding onto you only tightened, a groan sounding in your ear to replace the steady breaths that had been brushing over your skin, making you shiver a little as you came to your senses slightly more.

All at once, consciousness came crashing over you, the shocking realisation that you were in Los Angeles felt like a tidal wave, and you let out an excited gap, coming down to tap the hand with a vice grip on you excitedly, and he shifted his own hand, catching yours to still it and pressing it to the warmth of your stomach, and holding over the top of yours tightly.

“Mitch! We’re in LA!”

“You’ve had four more hours of sleep, let me have a little longer too.” He mumbled the words while shifting a little more, getting himself comfortable once again, pulling the covers back up to your chin as he snuggled into the heat. “Shh, sleep.”

“But we’re in Los Angeles! There’s so much to do!” Your words came out like a whine, and simply huffed into the back of your neck, ignoring your trying at temptation, and you switched your tactics, rolling over in his arms to stare up at the roof of the car above you. “What if I go out and get us some breakfast, you can stay here and sleep, and I’ll bring you something good back?”

He cracked an eye open this time, a yawn on his lips as he looked at you, you face tipping to the side to meet his gaze, brown irises swimming with tiredness, serenity, and some more flickers that you couldn’t quite decipher. “Wouldn’t be the same without you here. Can we just have a few more minutes?”

You nodded to him, his lips forming a sleepy smile as he leaned in, settling his head closer to you, resting his cheek on your pillow instead of his own as he tried to snooze once again. You tried your best to stay still, and you managed it for a good five minutes, maybe ten, but you were wide awake now, excitement filling your body at the prospects for the day, and the sun shining in through the tinted windows was casting a hazy glow over the space you occupied, making it hard for sleep to once again claim you, and so you couldn't stop it when the fidgeting took over.

You were playing with your fingers, or smoothing your hands over the blankets, readjusting the covers and messing with the random things you could reach, before he groaned loudly, mild irritation in his tone at the sounds and motions of your twitching. His entire body raised up, flattening himself over the top of you in a starfish motion to hold you still, and the round of laughter that left you as he did was beyond your control to contain. 

“Mitch!”

He hummed tiredly, letting his body slump even further against you, your breath forced from your lungs as you giggled, pushing at his shoulders and arms as you tried to roll him off of you, his chuckling joining your own as he shuffled, pinning you down as you gave in to his lazy assault. 

“Get off of me! You’re crushing me!” Your words he'd no head as you laughed with him, his body moving as he freed you, rolling away from you and onto his side, before dragging a hand over his face, and propping his head up on his elbow. You matched his pose, a grin on his face as you did, and he raised his brows.

“Fine, I’m awake. It better be a fucking great day that you have planned, though!”

“It will be, it’s going to be fun, I promise.” His smile was softer now, and he reached out to brush a finger through the stray hairs that had come free from your updo to sleep in, before pulling his hand back to himself, shrugging his free shoulder. 

“I know it will, this is a great trip.” You collapsed back against the pillows, feeling utterly accomplished as you heard the compliment for from his lips. “Now, I was promised a breakfast?” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled, searching around for a jumper to tug on over your head and your shoes, before crawling up front and finding your shoes, staring up the car as soon as he was in the passenger seat beside you. It didn’t take you long to find somewhere to grab a quick breakfast, and to find some toilets that you would be able to use to wash up and properly change in.

With a half-eaten McGriddle in hand, and two hash-browns already eaten, you were left acing one another, you sitting cross-legged in the driver’s seat as he sat twisted toward you with one leg pulled up in the passenger seat, eating happily as the sun rose across the sky in a destination of the other side, not quite yet at the middle, and leaving your plan as a blank slate ready to be built upon. 

“What if we go to some of the little markets? There are loads of street stalls, we coil do that?”

He shrugged a little at your suggestion, his mind wandering for a second, and while both of you had been filled with ideas and inspiration about what you wanted to do, you hadn't yet come up with anything conclusive. “What about that art museum?”

“You want to go to an art museum?” You giggled, his face screwing up a little as he took a bit out of his food, chewing with his mouth open and speaking through his food as he wiped at the sauce on his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I’m classy enough for an art museum?” You shook your head, giggling a little at his words and fishing through the paper bag your food had been given to you in for a napkin, leaning across the centre console to wipe a blob of ketchup from his shirt.

“Probably shouldn’t go in with a stained shirt, though.” His cheeks heated up a little, and he looked down at himself, before seeming to get over it, licking at the place where another chunk of sauce was threatening to drop away, before digging back into the food. “So, markets, then the art museum, then?”

“Do you want to go out for dinner? Somewhere nice?”

“Like.. a dress up, look classy sort of place?” The hint was underlying, whether this dinner was something friendly or something more, the words unspoken in your question, but the twinkle in his eyes as he watched you told you he’d read between the lines, and he nodded slowly, his body tensing up a little as he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, but he held strong. “I’d love that. I’m pretty sure I have a dress packed that could work for that.”

He let out a slow breath, finishing up his food and wiping his hands down on a napkin. “I’ll buy a shirt and tie while we’re out today.”

You grinned, finishing up the meal in your hands before cleaning up, searching around to find one of the wet wipes to get the sticky sauce from your fingers, and stretching yourself out a little. Pulling up some directions on your phone, you plugged it into the holder within your car, and one of the first songs to come up was a new addition made by Mitch, the man cheering loudly when he heard the opening notes, and you tipped your head towards him as you started the vehicle up, the tune shifting from the device speakers or h car speakers, and hi mood only brightened. 

It felt like you were on holiday with an entirely new man to the one you’d started the journey with. The moody, bitter and glum attitude and persona had melted away, being replaced with who you believed to be the real Mitch Rapp, someone who was bubbly, and warm, and a total sweetheart, once you managed to break your way past the military-defence level walls he had put up to protect himself. He was someone you were so glad you’d bothered to take the time to get to know, because with every day that passed by and every slight change the two of you made towards one another, every memory created and every photo taken, it only confirmed to you that this trip was now so much better with him accompanying you than it ever would have been alone.

You spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon exploring the market places around you. Everything from the tourist traps to the genuine stalls, it was incredible. You picked up a disposable camera, swearing you’d get the photos developed when you got home, and took surprise photos of absolutely everything that you could. There were some that you were excited for, the ones taken as a selfie with the Hollywood sign in the background, and the ones of you both goofing off at the stalls. You bought funny sunglasses, yours in heart shapes with Mitch’s looking like pineapples. You had a new dress, one to wear for your dinner outing with Mitch tonight, a flowy and red floral sundress, and he had purchased a shirt he’d found while passing by the markets, one smart enough for the dinner you’d be having. 

Your location was chosen when the two of you had searched for places to visit, settling on going to ‘République’ for your dinner, not wanting to miss the incredible opportunity to dine in the beautiful building, and take in the atmosphere of the transformed old church. There was no chance you could miss it, and so it had seemed like an easy choice. 

You took every chance you had while you were out there, LA being one of your bigger stops, like Vegas had been, and like New York would be, your chance to live out your big city dreams before going home to where you truly belonged. You walked along Rodeo Drive, being able to clearly picture every scene within in from ‘Pretty Woman’, and much to your surprise, you found that Mitch had watched that too, his face dropping to look at the ground as he mumbled that he was actually quite a fan of rom-coms, and that his favourite was ‘Dirty Dancing’. His face had only grown redder as you cooed at him teasing him endlessly for his love of romantic comedies until the blush had traveled all the way down to his neck, before you’d finally taken pity on him, and given up on the teasing. 

His arm was around your wait, holding you into his side as you walked, a thumb tucked under the edge of your shirt to rub over your skin soothingly, and you didn’t hesitate to check in with him frequently, to ensure that he was doing okay in the crowds, and wasn’t becoming overwhelmed. 

When he had been a little frazzled, the two of you had opted to make your way over to the County Museum of Art, taking a quieter approach to the day, before it all became too much for him. You couldn't deny that as much as you love the hustle and bustle on the occasional trip, you couldn't do it personally, finding yourself becoming a little worn down by the constant activity, you were a born and raised countryside girl, Stan’s farm feeling more like home on any day than a studio apartment overlooking a city ever would. You were raised rolling around in dirt as you learned how to fight, and taking long hikes until your legs were numb and you could barely stand, just to see the beauty of nature, not taking ballet lessons and having private tutors and being groomed to take over a family business.

You wandered the building quietly, mumbling between yourselves as you investigated the art, and his hand had slipped down to find you own instead of being wrapped around your waist, your thumbs playing and rubbing together every so often as you walked, admiring the beauty of every piece you came across. The art museum had an entirely different vibe to the rest of the activities you’d done today, and it almost felt out of place, being a quiet place of serenity nestled in the middle of unending excitement, buzzing energy and thrill. Hollywood was the place dreams were supposed to come true, it was a live at every hour of the night and day with people waiting to break big, to achieve their hopes and dreams and to get the life they always wished for.

It was busy, and crowded, and full of life, and while you loved every bit of it, you sometimes needed a little peace and quiet. Mitch was seemingly more than happy to listen to you talk, giving a running commentary that wandered from the artwork to the other patrons looking around, everything from critiquing outfit choices to giving your opinion on the scenery and portraits you were seeing, adding his own words every so often, and humming along with you as you spoke. 

He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, the progress he’d made in his own self-healing simply from taking a timeout from the chaotic and destructive life he led in the rest of his life was showing in everything he did. He was someone entirely new, like a blossoming flower, everything that was buried deep down was bursting up and erupting like a volcano, and getting to watch him finally unfurl again to soak up the sunlight in a world that had otherwise been cold and stormy for him was something that brought you great pride. 

Upon finishing your journey around the art museum, and taking several photos while nobody was watching, the two of you joking around and interpreting the art as you saw fit, copying the poses modelled in some of them to take pictures that made you laugh until you were being glared at and squashed, before eventually decided you’d had your fill of pretending to be a modern and quirky artist in the making.

The walk back to the car was filled with soft joking around and teasing, changing into your new outfits ready for your dinner together, and as the sun began to lower across the other side of the middle pint, the mood between you both had managed to change as well. It was hazier, a little blurry and romantic, his hand finding yours the second you’d decided you were finished with getting ready, your hair styled up a little more than you usually did it, and some makeup adjusted on your features in what you felt was more appropriate for the evening. 

He looked smarter than you’d see him, the man mostly owning slightly torn or worn clothing, rips and faded patched, distressed fabrics from hours of being tossed around in training of recruits or working in the gym, and you were absolutely certain that one of the t-shirts he’d worn had a bullet hol in the side, but had neglected to comment on it. Now, though, he was wearing the best pair of skinny jeans he had, and he’d wiped the mud and sand off of his sneakers, shining them up as best he could to match the smart, pale grey shirt on his chest, the top few buttons undone a little in the still very warm heat of the day, and he gave you a nervous smile as you did a little twirl for him, showing the outfit off proudly. 

He kissed your forehead, and told you that he thought you looked lovely, before guiding you away in a small walk toward the restaurant, his arm gourd you tightly once again as you looked at the menu on your phone in advance, giving you both an idea of what you were getting into before you arrived and felt under a little pressure. He was left in charge of guiding you both along, ensuring you wouldn’t crash and bump into other people on the streets, as you read everything aloud to him, hearing him hum and mumble approvals or disapprovals over each one. 

You had been seated from the moment you had arrived, your table already being prepared for you, a lit candle sitting beside a basket of bread, and Mitch had opted for the gentlemanly route, pushing your chair under the table for you. He had been twitching a little sitting with his hands out atop the surface as he looked at you, and it wasn’t until after the drinks and food had been ordered that he had the guts to actually reach out and take your hand in his, shakily weaving his fingers with your own and letting himself relax when you squeezed his hand in return. 

It felt as though it should have been awkward, as though the new transition from one thing to another between you both should have something a little uncomfortable and jagged, and yet there was no silent lulls in conversation as the two of you chatted, and no anxious moments as you wondered whether or not it was going well because you could tell from the smile on his face and the warmth in your own cheeks that it was. 

You shared food, and laughter, and got a little bit tipsy, the two of you stumbling a little as you made your way back to the car, more than grateful you’d pulled and set up a temporary base locations of yourselves in somewhere that had several locations with bathroom and spaces for yourself to change in, before you were still feeling a little buzzed, trying to detangle your hair and wrangle it in to some kind of functional style to work with for the night coming up. 

The rest of the days light had dripped away from you both, the pastels and faded hues that made sunsets had passed while you were inside, and so you were determined to catch it tomorrow, because now you were left with pale pinks fading up into blue and black, leaving a glittering sky full of stars overhead a still busy city. 

The light was already on when you made it back to the car, finding Mitch simply laying across the back, the trunk open as he let as much cool air get in to surround you both as possible, the vehicle still a little warm and stuffy as the residual heat that had built up inside during the day still lingered in the fabric of the blankets and the seats. He spotted you as soon as you had seen him, his arms held out lazily as he waited for you, remaining in that position until you had tucked away your bag, sealing up the box on the top of the car and crawling up the mattress to sit beside him.

Supporting yourself against the back of one of the chairs, you plugged in your phone, and made sure his was hooked up as well, checking the battery on the large device for the next time you’d be in a hotel to charge it, but it seemed to be doing fine, and so you were more than happy to let that concern slip away. Instead of holding his arms out any longer, the man rolled over, cushioning his cheek on one of your thighs as his arms wrapped under your legs, and he huffed out a happy sigh as his eyes drifted closed. 

“Comfy?”

“Very.” He retorted, tiredness slipping into his voice a little more obviously now, the call of sleep beckoning him in, and the four less hours of slumber he’d had than you was beginning to make its presence well-known. “What we doin’ tomorrow?”

The light slur to his words made your heart swell, and you shrugged, dropping a hand down so that you could rub a hand over his back comfortingly, and he only squeezed himself tighter around you as he did, before shivering a little when a cold breeze swept through the cabin of the car, chilling you a tad as well. He released you when you shuffled, and you sealed the vehicle up tight, locking it for the night and flicking off the little but glaring light overhead, plunging you both into mild darkness, the street lights and stars never quite letting it turn to blind darkness, but it was more than enough for a yawn to tug at your own lips. When you returned, he was holding up the edge of the blanket for you, having found himself enough energy to get underneath them and get comfortable, leaving you to follow in his footsteps, your head meeting the pillow as exhaustion began to come knocking.

“Do you want to go to Venice Beach?”

You paused from the adjusting of the covers you had been doing, shock racing though you and sobering you up a little as you looked up at him, his own eyes already on you, face pure and blank of any discernible emotion, simply awaiting your response, brows a little raised to punctuate the question. “You don’t like the beach.”

“Yeah, but you do.”

He was actually offering you the chance to go to the beach; no argument, no fuss, simply the two of you going, and while you didn’t want to push him past his limits, you were hoping he would give you the chance to try and remake some of the bad memories he had, to take it and turn it to nostalgia as you taught him to once again love the things he’d grown to hate. “You’d really go to the beach for me?”

“I would definitely go to the beach with you, no complaints or anything.” You shuffled a little closer to him, and he lifted one arm up for you in offering, taking the subtle hint you had been laying down, and resting it across your body as you moved in closer to him, legs tangling together and breath washing over your face, the minty extract of his toothpaste sharp on the air, and you could feel the earth rolling off of his body and onto you. “Can we get ice cream, though? That’s my bargain.”

“We can get as much ice cream as you want.” You promised, watching as his lips flicked up at the corners when his eyes closed. 

“Awesome.”

You repeated the word back to him, the silence falling between you both one again, and you had almost drifted off. You were unsure of how it happened, or when, but absolutely everything was different now, not only between you and Mitch, but in your entire life. After only a few weeks with the man, someone you thought you were going to hate, you now found that you would struggle to let go of him should he reach the end of the trip and choose to walk away, should he snap back to his locked up self when he got home, and you could only hope that wouldn't be the case.

The filter you usually possessed towards stopping your private thoughts and feelings from just drifting from your mouth when they crossed your mind was now entirely gone, and so you couldn't be helped all that responsible for the words that came next. 

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

He froze for a minute, the fingers that had been trailing up and down your arm in slow drawings stilled, before he was moving again, his front almost meeting your own as his forehead pressed to yours, noses bumping a little, and he sniffled lightly, the noise lost between you both as you kept your eyes closed, but found his hand under the cover. He was more than eager to lace your fingers together, breathing out a sweet sigh. “I’m really happy to be here. With you, on this trip. Thank you for letting me join you, thank you for taking the risk of agreeing to let me tag along.”

“You are so worth the risk, Mitch Rapp.”

You were grinning at the shore, facing out onto the already busily crowding beach as you waited for Mitch, who you were absolutely certain as just delaying the trip, and taking a moment to himself in preparation insisting that he could pack the beach bag for you both of you wanted to go and watch the ocean, and have a little look out across the sand to see where you wanted to take a seat. 

You adjusted the top one again, feeling the slight chill from the lightweight cotton thrown over the top of your bikini, still waiting for the sun to really heat up, the cool breeze rolling in with every wave that crashed to the shore was making you sigh slightly, rolling on the balls of your feet. Glancing back over the vehicle, you pushed your sunglasses up into your hair instead of being sat on the tip of your nose, finding the man you were waiting for digging through the bag once again, and you decided to take things into your own hands. 

You paced back over, standing by his side as he paused his rifling, looking up at you as you played it all off, and he turned his body towards you.

“I’m pretty sure we have everything we need.”

You hummed, before wrapping your arms around his waist, leaning into his body a little and looking up at him as he swallowed thickly, the smile on his face faltering a little. “We don’t have to go to the beach if you don’t want to. We can do anything today.”

“No, we are going to the beach.” He insisted, stepping away from the car and pulling you with him, closing the trunk after securing the bag on his shoulder. You dropped your arms from around him, pressing into his side as he tucked you under his own arm, and held you close to himself. “Did you choose where you want to sit?”

“Yes! Sort of. I have options.” He raised his brows at you, letting you guide the two of you along, your feet meeting the sand and you sunk between the grains a little bit, and you raised a hand to lace your fingers with his own from where they hung over your shoulder. “I was thinking we could sit half-way between the car and the sea, because I know you’ll want to still be able to see me if I go swimming, but then you can still see the car too. There’s no umbrellas though, the shade is all the way over there.” 

You paused, glancing between both locations, and he nibbled on his lower lip for a moment, considering both options. “How about the shade, and then when you want to swim, I’ll just move further down the beach.”

He trailed after you and over towards the place you wanted to be, the two of you setting up your towels in the cooler sand, and you placed your hands on you hips, looking around in satisfaction as you took in the atmosphere You loved the beach, the sounds, the sights, the warmth, it had always been something relaxing that you’d loved, and you were so happy that you had the opportunity to try and bring some good beach-themed memories back to him.

“Take a picture with me? I want one with us under the palm trees.” 

“Yeah!” You took the phone from him, holding it up over your heads to try and find some good lighting, waiting until you found a spot where the sun was just filtering to the leaves but didn't glare in either of your eyes or across the screen, and you adjusted the camera in your hands. You snapped the first one of the two of you smiling, and the second one was a little bit crazier, you were leaning up so more, pressing your face into the side of his and making both of your hair stand up, before his hand found you face, he held you cheek tightly, pressing his lips to the other, and one entire side of you face was scrunched up, the other smushed by his palm, but there was still a smile on your lips in the photo and so you couldn't help but love it. 

After stripping off your shirt and your shorts, you were left in your bikini and your flip flops, rubbing suncream into your skin as grains of sand already began to stick to your skin, but you had to do it, to make sure you were well-protected and weren’t going to get burned. He was a little more hesitant, before stripping the shirt he wore over his head, rubbing in sunscreen carefully, and palming at the scar on his shoulder. You knelt down behind him, plucking the bottle from his hands and rubbing the cream slowly into his back from him, watching as he relaxed under your touch, your fingers brushing over the scar carefully, thumb pressing into it as you tried to soothe him, before hooking your chin onto his shoulder. 

“Seriously, we can go if it’s too much.”

He twisted his head as far to the side as he could, shaking his head a little and reaching up to place a hand over your own. “Come sit in front of me, let me do your back for you, and then you can lean on me.” You moved in front of him, doing as told as his large hands smoothed over your skin gently, before letting you lean back into him, his arms supporting you both a your back pressed to his chest, the two of you staring out across the beach, and chatting the morning away as the temperature rose up and up.

 You sunbathed, and relaxed onto the sands, and you soaked up the afternoon’s heat, before simply sitting still and shifting periodically to keep your tans even became a little too sticky and uncomfortable, the heat making you feel like you needed or be up and doing something, and so you had packed up your things and taken them back to the car, going for a walk to find some ice cream to cool down with, as you had promised him you would, and choosing to wander around for a little while. 

You managed to persuade him back into a walk along the beach, even getting him as far down as the waters, edge, his face pale and eyes wide as he stared out at the sea, the waves lapping at his toes and his hand wrapped so tightly around your own that you thought he may actually break it, before he’d nodded to you, taking a step in deeper, and another, and another, until the water was reaching mid calf on both of you, and you were left walking through the gentle ripples of water, and he had eventually relaxed. Enough that you’d been able to chat, and even snap a few more pictures, walking almost two full miles, until you ran out of space, beginning to lose sight of the main beach, and turning to make your way back. 

The temperature was beginning to cool down once again, and he set up the towel for you both, a few metres away from the water as you continued to splash around and paddle, poking at shells and rocks under the water with the tips of your toes, occasionally picking some up and showing them to him, before throwing them out into the ocean as far as you could get them. 

You even had a little collection in your hands, ones you particularly adored, and you knelt before him when you were finished, the ends of you hair dripping wet and drips of water still running along you skin from where you’d risked walking in a little further, until the water had been lapping around your neck, your giggles visible to him you were sure, though there was no chance he’d be able to hear them. Sitting with your legs folded beneath you in the sand, you showed off each one to him, a random assortment of coloured rocks, slightly cracked shells, and brightly rolled pieces of smooth sea glass, choosing out a couple of pieces and discarding the rest onto the sand, brushing them off and putting them in you bag, before picking the grains out from under your nails. 

It took you a while to wash up, your skin beginning to itch and feel dry from the salt of the sea, but you had eventually found somewhere, grabbing a spare change of clothes and scrubbing yourselves down, refreshing yourself for the evening and the night, and leaving your wet clothes out on the top of the car to dry, the metal still warm to the touch as the breeze helped to dry them leaving them where they were as you chose to take a walk along to Santa Monica Pier. 

You shopped for trinkets in the ‘End of the Trail’ shop, despite the fact that you hadn’t actually been driving along Route 66, the two of you still bought plenty of little trinkets, enjoying looking round the shop and checking it all out. You also took a moment to explore the Oatman Rockshop, the 60’s theme bringing the both of you a weird kind of peace, searching through everything picking out one thing each, as well as something for your uncle, until you each held a gift bag from both shops, an the pier was beginning to close up as the hour approached eight o’clock, already. Street performers were doing their final shows, trying to make any last tips for the night, and you tried to make sure you tipped every single one that you passed, dishing out your change until you had no spare coins left to give, and moving on to grabbing some food.

With some fried food in hand, you dropped off your bags and swiped your dried clothes into the vehicle, before setting off back down onto the now cold beach. You sat down, watching the sunset and seeing the colours paint the horizon, glittering over the calm waters in a way that was so ethereal it never failed to take your breath away, something about the sun setting feeling like a reset button for you each time, something about it taking all your fears and worries away, every anxiety you had, until you were left in serene quiet, even if only for a few minutes. 

You stuffed the wrapped into your bag, hauling it up your shoulder and standing once it was beginning to get dark, the sun having disappeared, dragging it’s few rays away with itself quickly, and the night was setting in. Everything around you was lit up with beautiful and twinkling lights, and you were turning back towards the car when fingers ran down the inside of you arm, making you shiver a little before you were uncurling you fingers and letting him slide his between you own, grasping onto him tightly once his hand was slotted against yours.

“Let’s just walk for a little bit.”

“What if we get cold?”

He bumped the edge of his nose against your temple with a soft laugh, before pulling you tightly into his arms, running his hands along your back. “Are you cold?” You shook your head. “Then if you do get cold, I’ll keep you warm. Just a little walk, to the sea and back. I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

You gave in, your hands bumping against your thigh occasionally as you took a longer and diagonal path towards the ocean once again, the peace he held now that the beach was empty, just the two of you in sight, having conquered his fear, and he seemed almost ecstatic to once again be at the water's edge once again. The same anxiety he’d had all through the day was melting away from him, and you pressed into his shoulder as you went, his arm looping over you to hold you close, and he brushed a kiss across your head. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’. Just being happy.” You muttered, coming to a stop when he did, and turning to look up at him, his brows furrowed as he tried to find the words, licking at his lips and huffing when he couldn’t quite seem to get it. Reaching a hand up, you squeezed at his arm, before moving over his shoulder and onto his neck, the man raising his gaze to look at you carefully, his stare so deep and intense that you felt like he was peering right into your soul. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like I don’t deserve good things. I’ve done bad things, even though I was trying to do what was right.” He stepped in a little closer, and you got the sense he wasn’t finished, that the confusing sentences were leading up to something else, your breath hitching a little when he continued on; “You’re a really good thing.”

“What are you saying, Mitch?”

“I want you but I don’t think I deserve to have you.” He mumbled, his eyes searching your own, and you sighed softly, leaning in to press your forehead against his. 

“I think you deserve so much more than you have, Mitch. I think you’re a good person, and you just won’t let yourself see it.” His eyes fluttered shut, lips rolling together as he contemplated your words, before he was twisting his head, bumping his nose against your own as your lips brushed together. Letting your bag fall away to the floor so that you could loop your arms around his neck, you didn’t care about the belongings that you heard scatter into the sand, or about the dust that would get into your stuff, you only cared about the way it felt when his calloused hands smoothed over your body to sit low on your back, and the sweet taste of sugar on his breath from the fresh donuts that two of you had snacked on.

His lips brushed over yours, your tongue peeking out instinctually to wet them as you prayed your lips, the seconds gap between now and when his mouth would close over yours. A slow breath, the drag of your mouths together as they fluttered across one another, not quite a kiss yet, teasing and playful, his fingers digging into your lower back a little more as he pushed you in closer to him, until there was no more space between you, and everything was flush together, waiting for the connection of your lips.

He pressed a kiss to the edge of your mouth, a small smile taking up on your face when he did, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

You jumped in pure shock and a little horror though, when you felt something brush against your ankle the rustling of the items at your feet, and Mitch spun you around protectively, both of you looking back as a seagull squawked, wrestling with one of the paper bags to get to the left over pastry inside, another descending to get at it too, and they wrestled for it. As the adrenaline slipped away, your fingers untangled from the grip you had on his shirt, and yet he kept you held justa s lose, his face flared up red in embarrassment but you couldn't hold back your laughs, burying your face into his neck as the humour of the moment took you over.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You whispered between laughs, reaching down to scare them away, before grabbing at your items as he helped, dusting them off and packing the bag, before putting it back on your shoulder. 

“Fucking seagulls.” 

The words only made you laugh more, but he seemed happy with your response, rolling his eyes fondly and guiding you back towards the car, but not before you were taking a fistful of his shirt again and pulling him to a stop. Leaning up, you placed a long kiss to his cheek, dragging your lips over his skin until you were almost at his mouth, before sinking back down to your heights she stared at you. “We won’t be interrupted next time, it’ll be perfect, I promise.”

He nodded, taking your hand and pulling you in close, until he could wrap an arm around your lower waist. “Wanna’ drive around LA in the dark for a bit?”

“That sounds like an amazing idea.”

It was only a short walk back to the car, shorting yourselves out comfortably and getting strapped in, playing rock-paper-scissors for who would drive, to which you lost, finding yourself behind the wheel first. Clambering into the car, you settled yourself into the seat, adjusting it from the distance that changed when Mitch drove, his longer legs forcing the seat further back, and he grabbed a jumper, settling himself into the passenger seat and turning the heat up a little. 

The night lights round Los Angeles flashed by, giving you more than enough aesthetic pictures than you knew what to do with, you could plaster your walls at home with a new picture every time and probably still fill at least two rooms. You even forced him to stop at one point, and to take a picture of you sitting on the top of the car, your body a silhouette against the twinkling back drop. 

Following that decision, the two of you had decided to do the drive up to San Francisco before the sun rose, the sunset inspiring you to stay up and watch a sunrise too, and so you were determined to find yourselves parked up beside the Golden Gate Bridge before the sun peaked back up over the horizon. Neither of you were all that tired, but you pumped yourselves up with coffee anyway, grabbing some sugary snacks to eat as you went along on the road, having him feed you candy and hold up chocolate bars to your face as the two of you drove along, swapping a couple of hours in. 

Loud music turned up high, singing at the top of your lungs together into the cold night air with the windows rolled down, only the moons and stars as your witnesses, and the two of you couldn't have been happier. You rarely ever actually crossed another car, your headlights being the only ones to light up the roads as you went along, before finally you were crossing the signs letting you know you were now entering San Francisco, loud cheers from you both and high fives being shared. 

By the time you were pulling up to the bridge, the sun rays were just beginning to creep back into the night sky, preparing to welcome in another day, a few minutes to spare as you jumped up and out of the car. You were dragging him out of his seat before he’d even properly turned off the car, having to pull you to a halt just to be able to disentangle the keys from the ignition, closing the door to keep the warmth in as the car sat nestled under some trees to keep it dark once the sun came up. Both of your hands were wrapped tightly around one of his, pulling him with you watch out tightly over the bridge, and his thumb smoothed over your skin as you waited. 

“You’re practically buzzing.” He mumbled, and you shoved his arm lightly, but kept him close, tilting your face up towards him as he pressed his lips to your cheek in a sweet kiss. 

“I’m excited!”

“You’re fucking adorable is what you are.” He whispered, and you turned your head towards him, rubbing the tips of your noses together, and he sighed out happily against you, letting you twist in his arms until you were facing him entirely, and you stepped in closer, pressing yourself up to him once again and letting his arms encase you, feeling him wrapped around every single part of you as you existed in this moment. “You’re going to miss it.”

Your head turned away from him, watching out as golden light began to spill across the horizon in puddles or warmth and bright joy, spilling out over the land and switching the faint darkness to pretty early morning light, your breath catching in your throat as you watched it. Large hands were soothing up and down over you back, and you tightened your own around him, pulling yourself in as close to him as you could possibly get, and feeling his heart thudding against his chest, slow and steady, yet strong as it worked, and you were sure he could feel yours too. 

Resting your cheek to his shoulder, he tucked his chin atop your head, and you pressed in a little deeper, suppressing the yawn that you were wanting to release. At this moment, you knew you’d never been happier, not a care in the world as you watched the sun rise up and back into the sky once again. You were on the drip you had always dreamed of going on, and you had some company in unexpected ways, and yet you realised your heart felt full, being able to share everything with someone else, someone whom you hoped would be around with you for a long time.

“It’s so pretty.”

He didn’t give you a verbal reply, his chest rumbling with his acknowledgement though, a sound you knew to be in agreement, and you twisted your head up, pressing your lips to where you could reach, the underside of his jaw and the edge of his cheek. When the sun had finally moved up above the boundary where the sky met the land entirely, you pulled back to look at him, his arms loosening a little around you.

You shook off another yawn, keeping your lips sealed closed but not missing the chuckle he let out as he pushed some hair back and out of your face. As you watched warm honey-coloured eyes twinkle in the early morning light, you could finally read what that look in his eyes was. It was vulnerability, letting his walls down when he looked at you, when he was around you, risking letting someone else in when he was so nervous to even allow himself to grow close to someone else again.

“You’re tired. Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, okay.” You whispered, a hand finding his cheek as you watched him, before giving up on everything else within you, and pulling his face down to meet your own. His lips were soft and yet a little chapped, slightly raw from all the anxious biting he did on them but he pressed back onto you just as powerfully upon realising what was happening. A breathy noise left him, his mouth moving fluidly over your own as his hands tightening infinitely on your body, and you gasped a little into his mouth. 

He dipped you back a little, leaning over you as your hands cupped his face, fingers pressing into his cheeks and jaw as you clung to him, and you pulled back for a gasping breath, before diving into his mouth once again. He was just as eager to meet you, this one no longer the needy and hurried kiss that your first had been, but a longer and more sensual kiss. 

This one was teasing drags of lips and flicks of tongues that never went further, it was bumps of noses and needy whines that only made the two of you shift and pull closer, your hands in his hair, and you were smiling into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, your skin was stinging a little from rubbing against the rough stubble lining his cheeks, and your lips were swollen and raw from the kisses, but you loved every second of it as you panted for breath.

“Woah.” You grinned at his words, pecking his lips once again as he happily returned it, and he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “I forgot how exhilarating first kisses could be.”

“Nah, that’s just me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, before dipping down to steal another kiss from you. “Maybe so, but it was still a pretty epic first kiss, right?”

“Oh, definitely.” He nodded, before navigating you back to the car, helping you up and into the back. You didn’t even bother to get out of your clothes, simply kicking off your shoes and running a makeup wipe across your skin, before finally getting comfortable on the mattress and settling under the covers. He followed afterwards, his body becoming one with your own as his legs tangled with you won and your arms wrapped up together. 

“I can’t believe it's only been three weeks, and you've changed my life so radically that I have no idea how to go back to who I was being before.” You looked up at him, urging him to continue on, but not without lifting a hand to settle over his chest, feeling his puff up underneath you as he pressed into your touch. “I never thought about travelling before. I had so many plans, I wanted that perfect job and big career and deluxe apartment, and when I was with Katrina, that seemed like the perfect plan. But now I know what I would have been missing out on, and while I was in pain for a long time, I kinda’ feel like this was the path I was always supposed to be on.”

“That’s so poetic.” You whispered, and he chuckled, nodding his head and simply setting into quiet beside you. Nothing else needed to be said, it wasn’t a conversation, it was simply a statement, and not one that needed anything else to be returned, he just wanted it to be put out there, for you to hear it and to know. 

With fingers on your chin, he pulled your lips up to his, something along the lines of contentment sounding in the back of his throat, before he was pulling back. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You grinned, rolling him over a little and hitching one leg up and around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he crooked his arm, running his fingers through your hair gently, the other hand closing over your knee and squeezing tightly. 

After your moment atop the hill overlooking the bridge, the two of you had gone on almost exactly the same as you had before, the only difference being that of the kisses he would occasionally press to your lips as a surprise. He was affectionate, and attentive, and you felt like you were gaining a little more information on the man you were with every single time you spoke. 

Opening himself back up to the world somehow seems like a troubling task for him, and yet he was doing it so seamlessly that you’d think he’d never had an issue in the first place. The end of the week was spent in San Francisco, the two of you sleeping in late thanks to such a late night, and spending almost an hour deliberating over what you wanted to do. When it was settled, however, it was on spending the remainder of the day at the Golden Gate Park, a picnic in hand with bits you’d bought from a local sandwich shop and a blanket pulled out from the back of the car. 

His insistence was that it would be romantic, and that after the kiss you had shared, a romantic date was in order, but it had ended up being so much more. You had started the day with trailing through Walmart, a cart in hand and a lot of unusual looks being thrown your way as the two of you constructed what was possibly the most unusual collection of belongings in the cart that existed. You had drinks for your picnic, as well as an absurd amount of dried snacks and bottled drinks, and then came the oddities. 

Period pads, a starling amount of batteries, almost half of the shelf of hand sanitiser, antibacterial wipes and cotton pads, and you were certain people were beginning to wonder if you were hoarding for an apocalypse. You didn’t bother with bags, knowing it all had a storage place in the vehicle anyway, and so you opted instead to simply spend a little while unpacking it into the back, with you sitting cross-legged on the mattress, and doing the best to catch all the items that were thrown at you in high speeds. You caught at least the first ten, maybe even fifteen, before they were beginning to pile up, and you had laid back in the bedding, giggling as he continued to stack them up atop you, leaving you buried under the pile of groceries until the cart was empty, and you were left to be uncovered as he swept them aside. 

Sorting them through from the box atop the car, the glove box, the back of seat pockets and all of the little storage bins you had in the back of the car, and getting yourselves set, leaving a lot of snacks and drinks for yourselves in the front seat for when you got on the road later. You had a long drive ahead of you in the night, but the sun was still shining, and so you took your sandwiches and your blanket, and headed down to your next location. 

The trip through the park had begun with his hand nervously wrapped around yours, and a chance to stop for several photos along the way, before pausing at each small but beautiful attraction. You walked around the chain of lakes one time, and then looped halfway around again to find somewhere to settle down. 

You laid out the blanket, pinning it down at the corners with your shoes and the basket, before you were laying out across it. His shadow fell over you, and you were left to look up at him as he sat beside you, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. He grinned, leaning down to place a nervous but endearing kiss to your lips, before sitting back up and turning towards the basket to hide the dopey grin on his face, that he wasn’t quite fast enough to cover from you. 

“Food now, or sunbathing first?”

“Food. Gimme’ my sandwich.” You made grabby hands, and he linked one of his with your own, lifting you up to sit beside him. Your sandwich was passed to you, your shoulder’s bumping as you did, and the two of you stared out across the lake, watching as ducks swam and wandered around the outside, throwing in bits of grapes and seeds for them whenever they swam close. You had some more of the snacks from the car to fill you up, this being what would turn out to be the only meal the two of you had today, and so you are more than eager to fill up on it. 

There was a tray of cupcakes to follow, four different flavours, two each, ones that you’d picked out from the glass casing of pretty swirls of icing and toppings of glitter in the baked good section while your sandwiches were being prepared. There was a mixture of dark chocolate and coffee overwhelming your taste buds right now, a simple vanilla icing to tone it back down, and it was like heaven in a cake wrapper, your eyes drifting closed for a second. 

“I want to move here, so I can eat this exact type of cupcake for the rest of myself.”

“That good, huh?” Mitch glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a glint crossing his features, and he took a sip of his drink, brows raised in questioning, and you took another large bite. 

“Wan’ try some?” You tried not to let crumbs fall from your mouth as you spoke through the bite, swallowing your mouthful as you held it up to him, and he nodded his head. 

“Would love to.” He leaned down, and you held it up to his face, but he bypassed the sweet treat entirely. His tongue trailed along the bottom of your lip, swiping up icing that had gotten smeared there, before his lips were encasing yours, and you squeaked at the feeling. 

This kiss was different, all your others had been shy and nervous, and yet he seemed more confident this time around. His mouth teased over yours as his hand came up, holding your jaw firmly, and you trembled a little under his hold as his tongue dipped out to trace the seam of your lips, tempting you to pry them open for him, and you couldn't resist. There was still a caramel taste lingering in his mouth from the salted caramel and fudge flavoured treat that he’d been enjoying himself, and you felt your entire body sag underneath him at the slow drag of your tongues together. 

He grinned, not missing the whine you let out, his lips twisting up a little from where they were pressed to yours, and he put a little more effort into the kiss. The glide of tongues and lips, the way he seemed to suck the air out of your lungs, pulling back for only a second to catch his breath before diving back into you, and the subtle grazes of teeth over soft flesh, you felt like your heart was about to burst right out of you chest as your mind spun. He finally pulled back, nibbling a little on your lower lip and leaving you breathless as he settled back into his own place. “You’re right, that is good.”

“That was so smooth.” 

Your words came out like a whisper on a hoarse through, and he snickered to himself at the mess you’d become, before he was offering you a sip of your drink and a lazy wink to go with it, flustered heat flashing up across your face. 

You got a few more kisses throughout your picnic, and several more as you went back to the car, but once the heat began to fade, and the eight-hour drive to Portland was hanging over your head, you were soon to get on the road and towards the highway. You were only one day into whatever it was that you were becoming with Mitch, but it was already making you feel like this trip was going to become a whole new set of memories than what you’d thought it would be. 

On your third hour of driving, swapping over to place you in the driver’s seat, Mitch had reached a hand out, cautious at first, as to where the limits lay and what he was allowed to do, brushing the back of his knuckles along your thighs while you were talking. He continued to place patterns into your skin, your lips forming something between a smile and smirk as you watched him but didn’t say anything, letting him take his time. 

He finally worked his nerve up, settling his hand flat over your skin, and squeezing gently, pausing in what he was saying to look at you and make sure it was okay, and you took a hand from the wheel, placing it over his and holding him there, letting him know that it was okay. He was reserved and shy, and while everything on the outside of him exuded collected and confidence, a stone wall with no cracks, inside he was simply full of brightness and warmth, soft and unsure and just trying to work out exactly who he was once again, now that his world had flipped him upside down and left him with no other choices.

He was set on a certain path, and it was a job that brought him satisfaction, to protect and defend and to save lives, and while it was hard on him - both physically and mentally - it also brought with it a kind of gratitude that he had for himself, an appreciation that he’d picked up on his life and moved on, despite what had happened, and you could certainly respect that. Around the sixth hour, you swapped back over, a final few hours drive as you crawled into the passenger seat, googling places that the two of you would be able to stop at, and his hand found your thigh once again. 

There was a truck stop that left you just an hour or so outside of the city, and it seemed better than nothing, having a few small diners and cafés around it that you would be able to use for breakfast in the morning, but it left you with no place to wash up. Teeth were cleaned with bottles of water on the side of the parking space and your face was scrubbed with makeup wipes, dumping all of the waste into a trashcan, and taking turners to change in the back. 

The heaters left the car heated, but not warm enough for a comfortable level of sleep, having kept the A/C going too to ensure you didn’t get sleepy behind the wheel, and while you knew that the car would inevitably warm back up in a few minutes now that it was sealed up tight and secure, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to cuddle up close to the man you found yourself beginning to care deeply for. 

His arms were held out wide for you, and you lifted the blankets, settling against his chest and ignoring the flicker in your chest when his arms sealed you up tightly, one hand weaving into your hair and stroking over his softly, his lips brushing your forehead, and the other drawing unintelligible patterns over the shirt on your back.

The next three days seemed to fly past you in some kind of a blur, everything up to Seattle just tickling on by like a flash, a dream that you wake up from a little too early leaving you wondering what happened before you raised you’ve overslept, and have to rush away from it all. 

In Portland, the two of you took time out from your busy tour to go and see the Lan Su Chinese Botanical Garden. It was full of beautiful culture and tranquillity, soft music and the sounds of the little waterfalls and fountains, the smells of all the different flowers in the air being like that of a floral burst, and you felt as though stepping through that gates had taken you to a whole new place. It was incredible, and soothing, and you felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders simply by being there. You didn’t let go of Mitch’s hand once, letting him guide you through as you inspected every piece of architecture and decoration as you went, stopping to take photos with everything that you could. 

There was a cosy little spot that you discovered not too far from it for your lunch too, the day flying you by before you’d even realised it, the afternoon already having been rolling around, and so your sightseeing around the large city had come next. You held onto Mitch the entire time, sensing when he was becoming overwhelmed by the crowds and loud noise, despite the fact that he refused to voice it, and you hadn't missed the way that the posters for the exhibit of an old war submarine had caught his eye. 

You went, and you looked around and learned, and he seemed to be truly in his element then, soaking up every single piece of information he could, poking at things as you went around and telling you excitedly about all the different things. You couldn't care less about submarines, but with the way his face lit up and the passion in his voice as he explained all the indifferent workings and machines or you, it would be hard for anyone not to give him their full attention, your cheeks aching from how much you smiled while simply listening to him talk. 

You had a few more things to get ready for sending home, and so you stopped off to grab shipping labels and boxes at a crafts store you had passed, the two of you making sure you’d checked off everything for Portland from your mental bucket lists. With supplies in the back and your playlist ready to go, the two of you were sitting at the front of the car, your map out as you carefully turned dots along the road into crosses with a sharpie pen, mapping out your progress so far, and trying to come up with ideas for what you wanted to do with the beginning half of your day tomorrow, before driving some of the distance up to Seattle. 

You had settled on the dam, knowing that you had some of the drive to do anyway, and so you could travel towards it and your next destination once you were on the road. That night was spent boxing up your trinkets and labelling them, getting distracted each time you felt his eyes lingering on you for too long, or each time he looked so incredible while doing the simplest of tasks, like writing an address on a parcel, and it often ended with delicate kisses being shared that took you away from the task at hand. You eventually finished your work, and went to bed, with stinging lips and wide smiles. 

Your first job on your second day had been to deliver the mail, stopping by in the post office at a machine that printed pictures from your phone into postcards, and you selected a couple of the pictures from your camera roll, before settling on one of the one’s you’d taken at the beach in California, pushing a note into the machine and printing it off, scribbling a quick note onto the paper, before taking that away to be delivered too. It didn’t take long to reach the Bonneville Dam, and you could hear the roaring floods of water as soon as you stepped out of the car. 

It was misty in the air, leaving your clothes and skin slightly damp, from the water that had been thrown up, and the two of you had tried to make wishes on the water. You didn’t want to throw in coins, and so instead you each found twigs that had fallen to the ground from the trees lining the fences, chucking them in and mentally projecting your desires, watching as they disappeared into the water and were carried away quickly by the rapidly moving flow. You could walk along the full length, from the higher grounds with calmer moving waters, to places lower down where the water was crashing and creating noise, spraying up in your faces if you got too close, and you were sure you were going to have to change clothes once you got back to the car, just to be comfortable for the trip you had ahead.

Once you were finished looking out over the water itself and wandering up and down, you had moved onto the ‘fish hatchery’ next door, the serene ambience inside making you relax once again. Ponds and little waterfalls field with pretty fishes of all different colours, ranging from trout, to salmon, to sturgeon. 

It felt like the fish section of the pet store, quieter than all other areas, lit up with bubbling tans and decorations, as well as lights that complemented the shine on each fish, the silent swish of them within their waters, and it was like a kind of therapy, numbing you both into nothing but harmony.

There were several footpaths that you could take, a bag of fish food in your hand that was to share between you both, handfuls of the pellets and flakes being sprinkled into the water, watching as they came up to the surface to nibble on their meal, and you repeated the process at every tank you passed by, until the bag was empty, and you were certain you had seen every single one. 

You had reached Seattle by the late evening, grabbing a drive-thru dinner once again, this time from In-N-Out, sitting on the hood of the car, the recently turned off engine under the metal keeping you both warm, and you’d already changed into your pyjamas. You had found somewhere to actually be able to shower, taking a long steam under the hot water, scrubbing yourself down from head to toe until you felt fresh again, and it left you able to sit up atop the car with your burger and fries, feeling refreshed as you looked toward your next day. 

The secret TV nerd buried deep within him had suggested the two of you checked out the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ filming locations, before revealing that he loved medical dramas even more than romantic comedies, and had pretty much seen everything that had come out before a couple of years ago, and you promised to catch up with him on everything he’s missed since joining the Orion team as soon as you got home. That particular suggestion had earned you some kisses, the taste of ketchup on his mouth and the slight sting of salt on his lips, but you revelled in it nonetheless, leaning into it and kissing him back just as firmly. 

When you had imagined how your adventure would go, it never included sitting on the hood of your car and staring out at neon diner signs with greasy takeout food and sweet kisses, but you wouldn't change it for the world, every part of it only seeming to for perfectly into the memories you would never forget. The night had ended with a walk around the edge of the woods surrounding the driver’s spot that you’d pulled up to, staring up at the moon and stars until the cold had become too much, and you’d crashed in a heap of blankets and woven limbs.

The next day you did exactly as he had suggested, and the morning had consisted of taking a while to even find some of the filming locations. You drove around, and stopped for gas, getting out to take a quick look around the front of the hospital, which had deteriorated into a discussion that lasted for over an hour as you sat outside of the building with hot drinks in hand and discussed your favourite episodes. 

The two of you even took a little Ferryboat journey out to Lopez Island, taking pictures on the water and doing a little shopping around there. You bought souvenirs and keychains, and grabbed some snacks to take back with you, before the light was beginning to fade, and you still had the drive to do to the base of the trails on Washington State Mountain. 

That is exactly what led you to where you were now, sitting in the car and preparing yourself for bed, both of you searching through the box above the car to find your best clothes for a hike on Mount Rainier, and setting them out ready for yourselves. You also pre-packed your backpack with all the foods you would be eating for your lunch, as well as any necessities you may need for the trip, leaving in on the front sea with your best walking shoes, and waiting for Mitch to finish up as you played with the blankets. 

He was ready not long after you, locking up the car, and flopping his body down, held by your side and half on top of you, muffling your complaints and giggles about being crushed with some simple goodnight kisses, mumbling the words into your mouth, before flicking off the flights filling the cabin around you both. 

“Mitch! Will you hurry up!”

He scoffed, flipping you off absent-mindedly before going back to tying up his boots, tucking the edge of his jeans down into them and you groaned loudly as he moved to retie the other shoe, and you were certain that at this point he was doing it just to tease you. You tore your gaze away from the beautiful forestry before yourself, and turned back to take quick steps towards the car.

“You are taking, like, two hundred years to tie yo-” Digits sealed on the sides of your jaw, a thumb and forefinger holding tightly, and pulling your mouth down to meet his, a quick and simple kiss pressed to your lips, but it was enough to have you feeling a little shocked, words dying in your mouth as his lips worked with your own slowly, and left you pouting when he pulled away. 

“Patience is a virtue.”

His words were whispered against your lips, and you grinned, bumping the tip of your nose with his, before pressing another quick to peck to his mouth, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat at the affection. “Not one that I possess when it comes to hiking.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing a seven-mile hike?” He raised his brows, standing up in front of the car and pulling out the backpack that had your lunch and drinks in it, swinging it up onto his body and locking the car.

“Mountain goats.”

“Right, that’s it.” He huffed, struggling to tuck the keys into one of the pockets as his arms twisted behind him, but he seemed to manage it, sealing the keys in the bag too and rolling his neck from side to side. “And what if we walk seven whole miles, and the mountain goats don’t feel like frolicking in sight today?”

“Then you get the absolute luxury of four hours of time with me.”

He grinned, and you held your hand out to him, his fingers linking through your own as the two of you set off along the well-marked trail, and when you turned to him, he was smirking down at you, running a hand through slightly too long hair, pushing it back and out of his face. “Wouldn’t I get that anyway? We are on a road trip, I’ve had a whole month of uninterrupted, quality, bonding time with you.”

“Stop being such a sourpuss, Rapp. Hiking is fun, and you’re going to love it.”

“That sounds like a threat.” He snickered, your elbow digging into his side as you laughed in reply. “Was that a suggestion or a command?”

“A command, you’re legally obligated to enjoy your time with me, if you want me to cuddle with you at night.” His face flushed with a little heat, cheeks going slightly pink, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he tried to hold in his smile, and you liked the more playful side of Mitch that had been revealing itself to you over these last few days. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“You’re cute anyway. It’s also cute that you think you’d be able to stay away from me all night, I know you love it when I do that thing on your scalp.” Your eyes fluttered shut, a happy sigh leaving you at the memories of his fingers digging gently into your skin and soothing through your hair at night as the two of you slept. “How about we call it a truce, and you let me have half of your red-velvet cupcake when we get to the halfway point?”

“Deal.” You grinned, and he dipped down, sealing the promise with a short kiss, and the trail picked up a little more as the trees overhead finally met the path, the sun being clouded out just a little as the concrete fell away to mud and twig underfoot, marked out for your pathway. 

It was beautiful, the woods fading away into beautiful fields, flowers filling the grass in all kinds of colours, a rainbow of pretty petals and the perfect scene for a photo shoot, the two of you alternating between snaps and selfies, until you were certain you had taken one from every possible angle, and couldn’t need anymore. You stayed on the pathways to protect the protected plants, the nature being guarded carefully to keep it as serene and beautiful, and you would have hated to mess any of it up. One the other slopes began to come into view, clearly, you were - in fact - able to spot mountain goats, watching them graze slowly along the ridges, and tapping at Mitch’s arm, letting him roll his eyes fondly as he looked to the animals, but his eyes were fixed on them until they were no longer in view as you continued to walk. 

It was like a break from reality, snapping out of it long enough for Mitch to convince himself that this was the kind of exercise he liked to partake in, that blisters were on his feet from hiking boots and the sting in his throat was from panting hot air, instead of calloused and cut up hands from boxing bags and sparring, and ripped raw throats from accidentally inhaling smoke from fires and the gunpowder essence in the air after firing out his shots. 

You were able to convince yourself that this was a life you led regularly, getting the chance to go out simply be a part of nature, that the nature you weren’t exposed to the most was the woods around your uncle’s home as you patched him or other recruits up from serious injuries, and that when you pulled on a pair of boots, it wasn’t for the purpose of running and hiding from someone who had a grudge to hold against your family.

It was peaceful, your hand never leaving his, warm palms growing slightly sweaty as the exertion only grew, but you stayed attached, chatting about things that had no meaning at all and seemed to flitter away into irrelevance as the topics changed continuously. When the call for food and a break became overwhelming, you came to a halt, finding a nice patch of grass to sit under, tree canopies overhead and leaving a cool shade to shelter you from the warm midday heat that had taken over. 

You ate, and laughed, and shared food out between you both, laying down in the grass and simply watching the clouds move past in the sky. Your head was cushioned on his arm, the rest of it bent at the elbow to sit over your shoulder, fingers linked with your own. His lips had pressed to your forehead, and you had twisted, kissing along the stubble lining his jaw until you reached his lips, the minutes turning into almost an hour as the two of you took that break in your hike, sweet kisses becoming something more heated. 

Like a Shakespeare play, the hazy summer atmosphere seemed like a novel-worthy layout. Butterflies fluttering through the sky and flowers dancing in the breeze, birds chirping overhead, and nothing or nobody to bother the two of you. Your mouth had met his first, a surprised but content noise-making itself known in the back of his throat, before he’d been more than eager to return it, his lips moulding with your own in a series of soft and caring affections. 

He had rolled towards you a little, his body shadowing over your own and blocking the sun out from your eyes, and your other hand slipped up to tangle into his hair as you found yourself laying back down against the cushioning of his arm. His other hand was holding your face, fingers smoothing your hair out of the way so that he could hold onto your cheek. Your head met the bare strands of grass when he’d shifted a little more, his body covering your own entirely as he under that hand to support himself, the one from your cheek moving from your body a little to find your hip as his tongue met your own. 

Teasing at your lips and tracing your mouth, it was slow and passionate, learning one another in a more intimate way, taking the time out and just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the feel of sturdy grass pressing into your skin as your mouths worked together. Gasps for breath and clumsy bumps of noses and foreheads as you worked on a rhythm that would work for you both, until his hand was trembling from holding him up, and your lips were stinging from the overactivity, your sensitive skin scratched up along your face, and his own wet lips made a lazy grin. 

A thumb had run over your lips, clearing the shining spit away from them, and placing a final peck there, before he was groaning out in relief at taking the weight from his arm, flopping back down into the grass beside you and slinging a hand over his face to block out the sun rays shining down. 

“Fuck, I missed that.”

“What exactly was that for?” your voice was raspy, and you popped your elbow up, head resting on your hand and one hand coming to rest to his chest, his hand closing over yours as you drew patterns into his shirt. 

“Y’ looked cute. I like kissing.” He licked at his lips, dragging his teeth over swollen red flesh, but your gaze seemed to unlock something more in him, because the happy sigh he let out shrugging his shoulders a little and pulling you closer to him to press your cheek to his shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck. “Y’know, a month ago I felt empty. Hollow, like nothing mattered. Hopeless.”

“Mitch..”

“No, no. That’s not how I feel now.” He offered you a sweet smile when you leaned up to look down at him, and a hand found your neck, sitting delicately on the side and thumb smoothing along your jaw sweetly. “Things are coming back up to the surface that I didn’t know were buried, things I thought I’d lost and would never get back, and yet you came in and brush the dust off of everything, like going into the attic in your childhood home and seeing all your long-forgotten memories, and things that made you smile.”

“Like what?”

He gave you a small smile, his eyes leaving your own to go up to the sky, and he let out a long breath. “Lots of things. I always wanted to see Italy, and the first time I went, it was to kill people. I didn’t get to do anything I wanted to do, so I think that might go pretty high up on the bucket list.”

“I always wanted to go to France.” You replied, and he nodded his head, sighs seeming to glaze over as he thought about it all, and he squeezed you in his arms, before sitting up and shaking his head clear of grass strands and stray dirt. 

“Maybe our next road trip can be around Europe.”

“Our next one?” He nodded his head, standing up and brushing himself down before holding his hands out to you. Pulling you up to your feet, his eyes seemed to all but sparkle with mischief and cheek, and you freed up one hand from his to brush through his hair, watching as he picked grass and flowers from your own strands, before you were rolling up onto the tips of your toes to kiss his nose. It was adorable that he blushed when you did, and that his eyes fluttered his lips parting to let out a relieved breath and getting back as much affection in return to what he liked to dish out, but it was even more adorable that he was even thinking about another road trip. 

You swiped up the bag when he let you go, packing up all of your rubbish and clearing it away and zipping it up, lifting it onto your back as your arms were pushed through the sleeves. “You want me to carry the bag?”

“Nope, I want you to carry me.” Your hands found his shoulders, propelling yourself up onto his back and your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs were around his waist. He let out a sudden laugh, bouncing you up a little further as large hands gripped at your thighs, before pulling you up a little more on his back. Your chin rested on his shoulder, letting him carry you as you began to navigate the rest of the trek. 

The arrows guided you along, a fun and light mood hanging over you both as you went along, letting him bounce you and jostle you until you clung to him for dear life. He carried you for longer than you expected him to, before eventually letting you down when you insisted that if he didn’t he would hurt himself. You had flowers tucked into your hair and his picking them up and putting them back every time he shook them out with a scowl, before he’d resigned to letting you do so, only getting rid of them when the trees cleared and the campsite you had parked up at came back into place once again. 

The walk back had been more than incredible, just as fantastic as the first half had been, and you made sure to get plenty of photos as you went. Pink was lining his skin now, over the tips of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, a little dryness coming along your own skin from where neither of you had remembered to apply sunscreen before setting off, but it was all worth it, the slightly sun-kissed patches would only serves as a reminder for the day you’d had.

The car was a welcome relief when you finally found it, though, because what had been a four-hour hike when you’d looked it up had been over six between the two of you, taking your time and watching as the sun had risen overhead and dipped back down on the other side. Your feet were aching and your toes felt pinched from the boots, and the second you had the door open and you were able to hop up into the passenger seat, you were kicking them off with a grunt.

They were dropped unceremoniously in the footwell with the bag, your body curling into the warm fabric of the passenger seat as it called out to you, a yawn making its presence known as it ripped free, undeterred when you covered it with your hand, the sun having left the car perfectly warm for you. 

“The drive to Idaho is long, y’know. We have to go right around the mountains.”

You simply nodded, before reaching out to him, pulling him in closer with a fistful of his jumper, until he was bracing his hand on the top of the car and chuckling at your whines as you attempted to pull him even closer. “Take a nap with me first.”

“In the passenger seat?”

“Yeah. ‘S warm.” You rubbed at the spot, and he considered it for a second, before letting out a huff. It was awkward to navigate, his hands scooping up under you and moving you across to the driver’s seat from a second, before he was settling into the seat himself, and closing the door. Locking it up behind himself, you watched as the chair was tipped back until it was laying as far as it could with the other seats flattened behind it, and he situated himself comfortably.

Patting at his parted thighs, his eyes had closed, head tipped back comfortably, and you crawled across into his lap. Your back was to the door, leaning against it, and legs stretched across him to the seat you had just abandoned, calves pressing to the centre console. It was slightly uncomfortable, but all of it went out of the window when his arms closed around you, one hand tucking under the edge of your shirt to sit on your bare skin, as the other wrapped around you and held you in close to his body. 

“Drive in a few hours?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” His voice was laced with sleep now, and it was lulling you into your own rest, unconsciousness beginning to take over, and you happily let it, Idaho calling out to you both after you’d taken a well-deserved nap together.

[popculturebuffet]

Lilo and Stitch Crossovers: “Morpholomew” (American Dragon Long): Stop Trying to Make Am Drag a Thing (Commisson Done For WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And welcome to a brand new retrospective/story arc/thing from yours truly, comissoned directly by WeirdKev27. If you’d like to comission your own review or set of reviews like this one, it’s 5 bucks. Just contact me via my ask box or direct messages on this very blog or my discord technicolormuk#6550.

With Shadow Into Light in the books, Kev decided he wanted to comission something not duck related and a bit smaller as a buffer before the next big arc, ALL of three arcs from season 2 of Ducktales, and decided to go with something he suggested to be a while back as a possible future retrospective: The Lilo and Stitch Crossover episodes! 

That’s right for the next three weeks, with TWO reviews this week since I had a spot open up and Kev paid for this one in full and way in advance, we’ll be taking a trip to Hawaii to visit everyone’s faviorte little girl, her best friend/pet/killing machine as they try to find homes for his 625 cousins. 

I loved Lilo and Stitch when I was a kid: Disney admitely got their hooks in me on that one with their cool prequel comics in disney adventures. These comics set up the movie, showing Jumba creating Stitch and the events leading up to both getting captured. The movie did not disapoint with cool character designs, a drop dead gorgeous recreation of Hawaii, and a really heartfelt, heartbreaking and heartpumping story of loss, family, and ving rahmes voicing one of the few heroic child services workers i’ve seen in a medium, a refreshing change of pace. The film is a masterpiece and I really do need to watch it again sometime. 

Given the series was a huge hit and that thsi was before the big lull in the late 2000′s and early 2010′s where Disney refused to make any tv shows based on their movies, a series followed, given a lead in by the direct to video movie Stitch.

The movie set up the basic premise; 624 capsules containing Jumba’s previous experiments, cousins as Stitch calls them, ended up raining over Kauai, awakening when dropped into water or any other liquid. Lilo and Stitch, with help from Jumba, his live in boyfriend Pleakley, her tought but fair sister Nani, and her boyfriend David, who dosen’t show up as much as i’d like but is my boy so he gets a mention here. But anyways our heroes try to reform the various engines of distructoin who all have unique powers and find them their one place they truly belong. 

So yes the show was a Mons-type show clearly captalizing off pokemon.. but the slice of life setting as opposed to the shonen style of most shows following in pokemon’s wake, gave it it’s own unique feel: while our heroes did fight, it was more about shenanigans, adventures and what not with these unique creatures and the purpose is very heartflet: Lilo simply wants to give these guys the same kind of love and support she’s given Stitch and a chance to do good. 

Opposing them is Gantu, the shark bounty hunter from the first film who, now out of a job, is working for Dr. Hamstervile, an imprisoned sceintest and a character I really don’t like that much as he’s not funny or a genuine threat or both and feels like a waste of time. Thankfully he’s not the focus and Gantu is instead partnered with 625, my faviorite Lilo and Stitch character. 625, as the name suggests, is stitch’s immediate prototype.. but unlike Stitch is too lazy and peaceful to be a real threat and isn’t even really a villian despite being on Gantu’s side. He’s busy making samwitches, his calling to the point when he gets a name in the finale movie it’s naturally Ruben, and snarking at gantu. He’s sadly not in this one but hopefully it’s JUST this one. 

As you can tell I liked this show a LOT at the time. I haven’t watched it since, mostly because disney scarely replayed it after it’s run, but it was vibrant, fun and intresting and a nicely laidback and creative take. The fact I came into the franchise with the comics and thus 625, who was introduced there in fact, and had a hunger to know more about the other experiments certainly helped. It was great fun. 

But while I grew up with the show and the four shows it teamed up with, i’ve never seen these episodes before these reviews. I wondered why for years as I caught the tail end of the kim possible one and saw images ocasionally, but never saw them. 

Turns out it’s because in general Season 2 got screwed over. While Season 1 was pushed out the door fast and aired at a rapid pace Season 2.. was portioned out over several years, and the Recess crossover one, the last one aired and the last one i’ll be covering never even got to Disney channel, only airing on ABC kids, DIsney’s saturday morning block at the time I rarely watched. I did watch it’s predecessor one saturday morning though. Good stuff. 

Since I couldn’t find any making of stuff for why these episodes happened, my best guess is DIsney wanted some cross promotion, and the shows used were chosen because they were the most popular at the time and honestly all 4 represent some of disney’s best, with Recess being in heavy reruns at the time, hence i’ts conclusion despite the show being finished before Lilo And Stitch the movie came out, let alone the series. 

So yeah i’m taking this ride for the first time.. but I was happy to. While Kev pays for a lot of my work, I still have to accept the idea.. and this was a great one. It allows me to cover 5 amazing series and gage how much people would want to see reviews of said series on this blog in one fell swoop.

So to kick us off we have American Dragon: Jake Long, a series I waited forever to come to Disney + as I loved it at the time, badly need to rewatch it (Been busy ), and find it genuinely great: It’s a great teen superhero story about the magical protector of new york, with a charming lead, a great setting and horrifcally great villians in the violently racist magic creature hunting huntsclan.. and their top agent who happens to be jake’s love intrest Rose. It’s really excellent and i’m glad it’s now widely avaliable for all to see. I will say ahead that all four shows in this crossover arc are excellent, and were fine choices for this. 

So what happens when an action comedy about a hip hop teenage dragon meets a slice of life show about aliens? Find out under the cut. 

So we open at a fancy hotel where Lilo’s bringing lunch to her sister Nani when she runs into.. Keoni Jameson. 

The second I remembered this kid all the hate just came flooding back, coursing through my veigns. Just pure liquid hatred for this little perosnalitiless little punk. Keoni is Lilo’s crush and local “stupid white audience stand in”. He has no real personality other than “generic cool kid” and “likes skating”, and just sucks the air out of the room anytime he’s in an episode. Keoni is part of a recurring problem in cartoons across the ages, one that’s slowly going away: the bland love intrest. Intorducing a character whose only traits are being cool for the lead to fawn over with usually no intent of either getting the two togehter or just ending it. IT’s annoying, it was in a good chunk of my childhood, I wish it’d stop. I cannot tell you how many shows used this trope. There were exceptions, American Dragon Jake Long actually used it well by not only making Rose a fleshed out character..  but making her jake’s nemisis in their other lives, and thus making things increidbly difficult on both once the truth comes out, with Jake grappling with if he can trust her or not and Rose grappling with the slow relization eveyrthing she was taught her whole life was wrong.

And again I have seen GOOD storylines using this as a tool: Dipper and Wendy ended with her having been aware teh whole time, but simply not knowing how to let him down given the age gap, and Regular Show rebounded the best from it: it turned the stop and start relatoinshpi of Mordecai and Margret’s relationship into a character flaw for him, openly explored it.. and ended up having him work past it and actually date her for a bit. Before she moved away, he got an even better love interest, then they destoryed the relationship in the worst way posisble and I wil lbe getting to that at some point. Some point. 

So yeah even at the time it was done better, hindsight haas only made it worse and it made watching the first few minutes tough because I had to keep pasuing because I hate him so damn much. He just adds NOTHING to the show and is a blank yanwing void from which no good came out of and I was terrified he’d be in the rest of the episode. Thankfully while he drives the plot he’s only in this scene.. but it’s still one more scene than both 625 and Pleakly got. yeah both are missing, as is nani. 

I did uncover one fun fact that made things a bit easier though: The crew ALSO hated Keoni. No really. Disney forced the character on them as they wanted an audience surrogate, and this abomination is what popped out. They DID NOT want him here and likely only used him as mcuh as they did because Disney forced it on them. And Disney would NOT learn from this as Star Vs got saddled with Alphonso and Ferguson soley because of network mandate. The two aren’t TERRIBLE characters but they aren’t great and feel as tacked on as they were. And part of this does fall on the crew: you CAN twist a stupid mandate like this to work well: Joe Murray was asked to add “A female character with a hook”, as in some sort of dumb gimmick to Rocko. He used those words, meant to create a superfical girl power cardboard cutout.. and created the wonderful Dr. Hutchenson, a bright cheery doctor, the series best sidecharacter.. and someone with a hook hand. But I won’t go too hard on them: they probably didn’t have as much room to manuver and the fact Keoni was sitll being shoved into episodes in season 2 tells me they likely had a set number of episodes he had to show up. I’m suprised they didn’t demand they have characters ask “Where’s Keonie?” any time he wasn’t in an episode. He was unecessary and it comes across with a massive chunk of unforutnate implications: that they didn’t think a series with a mostly hawaiann cast would work, that they wanted at least one other “nice” white character to offset myrtle instead of having the only major white character be a bully and antagonist, and that they thought tehir mostly white audience coudln’t enjoy a series without a white character, which as someone who was in the target demo at the time, I call bullshit on. As I said I hated him then, I hate him now and his involvement is the worst aspect of this episode. 

So after Lilo fawns over him for a bit we find out this chonk of wood’s purpose in the episode: to set up the plot. There’s a massive Skate Competition coming to town with the prize being a really cool skateboard.  This plot point itself.. I don’t mind. Jake is a skater, it’s part of his character and one of the things he loves doing in what minsicule spare time he has. And while it was a common trope at the time having a character skateboard really dosen’t harm most works. We’ve gotten great characters like Jake, Jackie Lynn Thomas, Branwen and Ronnie Anne Santiago out of it, and it feels like natural parts of the character, and frankly An Extremley Goofy Movie wouldn’t be NEARLY as awesome without having skateboarding bizzarley attached to the plot via the college x-games. Granted somtimes you get Rocket Power out of the deal but that’s the price you pay for the good stuff. I only regret it’s involved because Keoni has to be there and I had to pause multiple times to get through his scene. He’s just a sampler platter of terrible decisions made in 2000′s cartoons and he irritates me more than this guy. 

And anyone whose read my Loud House reviews can tell you that is a high bar to clear. 

So naturally Lilo wants to enter the Hawiann X-Games to get the board for Keoni. Though I will give the writers credit for having Stitch voice their thoughts and the audiences thoughts by having him take Keoni’s picture and throw it in the garbage. Where he belongs. 

Lilo’s not great at it as they practice.. and said practice naturally ends up waking up a new experiment, 316.. who i’m just going to go ahead and call Morpholomew. Stitch eventually catches him though like many of the experiments he’s not actively malevelolent and is easy enough to get home. 

Jumba gets to his schitck of breaking down what the experiment of the week does: In this case Morpholomew is  a shapeshifter though he has a VERY intresting twist on those powers: while he can naturally morph himself into anything he’s seen or has a picture of, he can do the same to anyone he touches. It dosen’t effect their voices, but otherwise it’s a perfect recreation. 

So Lilo instead of finding him a home right away.. decides to wait until after the compettition because we need him for the plot. 

So at the Skateboard Competittion Lilo tries to enter, but finds she’s too young.. but since she has a picture of Keoni, which is a nice way to use her photo hobby from the movie for plot reasons and thus dosen’t feel like an ass pull. Why Keoni’s not in town to skate is as his dad left because it’d be too crowded.. even though the event is at the resort he owns. 

So while Lilo commits identtity theft, our guest star appears. He’s cool, he’s hot like a frozen son, he’s young and fast he’s the chosen one, people i’m not braggin, i’ts the American Dragon. Jake is here for two reasons: the first is that Grandpa Long got reports of magical creatures out in the open, so naturally they need to look into that. It’s a clever way to get him, along with Grandpa, Fu, Trixie and Spud, over to Hawaii. The Dragon Council would defintely be suspcious hearing about this, and my guess to why they hadn’t sent another dragon over is they simply dont’ have one on the islands. As for why the Huntsclan didn’t get involved in any way, it’s simply too public for them.  With the magical community in new york, they don’t have to worry about exposure because neither side wants it, so neither side can out the other. Here with a bunch of creatures out in the open it runs the risk of the Hunstclan being dragged into the light.. and given the populace dosne’t care about the “magical creatures” alongside them, it would make them look like the monsters they are. 

Spud and Trixie tagging along also makes sense besides “they needed them for the plot”: While they’d obviously want to come to Hawaii, the skate competition is likely Jake’s cover for why he’s there, as well as one for why it’s just him and grandpa going with a couple of his friends so they don’t have to deal with manuvering around jake’s dad. That sad them never TELLING jake’s Dad is it’s own can of worms as it feels cruel, made things harder for jake and there was no real reason not to. At worst he’d want Jake to stop for his own saftey but given ther’es an active threat in  the huntsclan for the first season and a half, NOT helping people would be the right thing and I feel he’s a sensible enough man to understand eventually. 

And it’s stuff like this that already makes this crossover really work for me: they don’t really have to strain to get Jake over there or tell the audience heavily, the blanks fill in themslves. Or I am but that’s because it’s my job and I love doin it. 

So everyone goes off to their corners; Jake to do a few practice runs, Foo Dog to bet on his friend because of course, Trixie and Spud to go to the beach (even though Spud’s terrified of sharks so I question why Trixie needs him for this), and in a delightfully adorable subplot, finds a lady to woo: local fruit stand vendoer and crankly old lady Mrs. Hasagawa. 

I am here for this subplot: While Grandpa not focusing on the mission is weird for him that’s the entire point.. and their just really cute together. He’s smitten with her entirely because he sees her chewing out one of the people running the contest for making her sign too small. And he performs one hell of a romantic gesture by, while everyone’s back is turned, using his dragon fire to make an add for her on the skate ramp itself, and they have a lovely montage of their time together.. which also weirdly includes grandpa using his dragon fire on stage inf ront of everyone which makes no sense for his charcter but is so cute and does feature david I really don’t care. The writers of Lilo and Stitch probably weren’t deeply familiar with the show and likely just wanted a fun gag. Could be wrong there but it’s cute. He continues to act grossly out of character by trying to avoid going home at the end.. but again I find it simply because he’s in love, they have genuine chemstiry and I like to think they stayed in touch and he retired out there at some point once Jake was old enough to handle things himself. This may not be a ship I expected to support going in but I will die for it going out. 

So back to the main plot, Lilo uses Keoni’s body to imitate him which... she’s only loosely called out on and realizes is bad by the end only because she gets stuck in another body. And that’s not even getting into the fact she BREAKS UP WITH KEONI’S GIRLFRIEND. Yes really.. she just does that to get her out of the way. She comes around and realizes she was wrong and tries to fix it which would be fine.. if hte episode didn’t try to cop it out by revealing “Oh she’s not his girlfriend, she’s just someone who keeps telling people that”. It just feels lazy and dumb and a way to keep Lilo’s crush on Keoni for reasons I DO. NOT. GET. But the identity theft is just brushed aside by everyone: Keoni never finds out, and Jake just brushes it off. The real issue is more her trying to bribe keoni into likng her which while something kids need to learn is not the only thing she did wrong here. It feels like they didn’t think all the implications out here and it hampers the episode

Speaking of which as Gantu captures Jake, he sees him transform into dragon mode and assumes he’s the experiment, Jake’s charactization is pretty shallow.  And why yes it DOES feel weird writing sentences about a character with the same name thank you for asking. I wasn’t expecting a deep character piece or anything: This is a guest spot, the writers here are not the same normal ones for American Dragon. That’s fine. The problem.. is that they clearly did not get Jake. Grandpa being partly out of character is half the joke, Trixie actually gets a really nice moment towards the end, and Spud.. is eh. But out of them Jake just feels like a basic character description: He likes hip hop, he likes skateboards, he calls himself Am Drag despite that sounding like a good name for a drag act but a terrible name to shorten your title, he fights.. that’s it. 

While jake is all of that in the main series, he’s also a kind young man who while sometimes irresponsible does the right thing when the chips are down.  He’s someone weighed down by a responsiblity he didn’t ask for, often makes his life more difficult and often finds himself in trouble because his mother and grandfather won’t bother to tell his dad he’s a dragon. Yes that part still bothers me, and I don’t see why we couldn’t just have a superhero show where both parents know. But regardless this just dosen’t feel like Jake , like they just watched the intro and that was it. Jake feels more like a plot device in his own crossover. 

That being said there is some good stuff: The minute Jake realizes some Sci Fi stuff is going on instead of hte normal magic stuff he tells him “The am drag’s show isn’t about sci fi” a nice meta bit and then breaks out. Meanwhile Lilo takes on his form.. and ends up stuck after badly botching her run again, as Gantu finds the real shapeshifter. 

We get the best stretch of the episode from here though: Lilo awkardly tries to play jake and like jake we get a nice meta nod to how diffrent their show is as she’s worried about his belief in magical creatures.. and is startled out of her charade when Foo Dog talks, a really nice bit especially since it’s tame compared to the weirdness he deals with. Spud and Trixie have questions... only for Jake to show up and his agressive behavior leads to the best bit of the episode: Jake Vs Stitch. The catlyst is understandable: jake has no idea why Lilo’s taken his identity and Sttich is just protecting his best friend from harm. The animation is fluid, the fight is fun and quick and uses both’s powers stellarl. Whle “two heroes get into a misunderstanding and then fight” is a well worn cliche at this point, it’s moments like this that show why: you get to see two heroes who in this case never have interacted before or sense, duke it out, why each is special and it’s fun to watch. 

Lilo breaks it up, and admits to the whole thing.. including the whole give Keani the board stuff. While Jake and Spud, being awkard with girls and a loveable moron don’t see the problem with that Trixie gets a moment to shine. As far as I can remember she really didn’t get much on the show proper so it was a nice suprise to see her mentor lilo her, telling her trying to give someone gifts to love you is not okay, she should just be herself all that good stuff. It’s a nice character stuff and tha’ts the kind of character interaction this episode needed more of. 

With the misunderstandings washed away our heroes team up and storm gantu’s ship leading to another great sequence as Stitch rides on Jake’s back while the two keep him busy and Lilo gets turned back, Trixie complimenting her dress “Thanks I have 10 just like it at home”. It’s such a sweet and genuine moment” They head back out and gantu semeingly grabs morpholmew from where they hide.. only to find out when he gets back it’s spud, our adorable little blob monster transforming Gantu into a bunny and our heroes leaving. How does Gantu get out of being a bunny?

But it’s a nice enough gag. So we end the episode. We get another nice gag as grandpa had himself and his lady transformed to try and avoid going home, and Jake is fine with having lost out on the board what matters is he made a friend. Sadly we did not get a followup in ADJL., but spud does name our experiment, Morpholomew. 

We end on Morph getting his home: a costume shop where he gets paid in fried chicken, he was shown to enjoy it throughtout the episode and changes people into things. It’s a nice little button to the episode and one of the funnest parts of the show was figuring out where the experiment would end up at the end. 

Final Thoughts:

This episode is a really mixed bag. There is some good character interactions, two tremendous fight scens and Trixie gets a chance to shine for once if only for a scene or two, and the clashing genres end up making for some great jokes> The shows do go well together as while Lilo and Stitch is more laid back both have slice of life elements. And hasgawa X Grandpa is just oto cute for words. 

The episode is held back by Jake and Lilo’s lackluster characterizatons: Jake is simply the theme song as a character, which in theory is awesome because that theme song slaps but in practice is pretty lame, and Lilo is selfish and irresponsible even for her in a way that dosen’t feel at all convincing. It drags down what’s otherwise a fun crossover and Morpholomew is truly a unique and wonderful experiment. Still if you like either show it’s worth a watch even if you have to suffer through Keoni for it. It’s worth it.. I just wish it was better and hopefully the next 3 will keep the good parts but take out the bad. Granted this was produced last so I could be wrong, but here’s hoping.  Oh this episode also featured Miranda Cosgrove as the girl who claims to be Keoni’s girlfriend. This is also Keoni’s last episode meaning I do NOT have to worry about accidently running into him. Thank fucking christ. 

Next Time On American Dragon Jake Long: Jake’s dad drags him and his friends on a camping trip and Jake ends up encountering the Jersey Devil. Now all they need is a sexy lady devil cake to lure it out... what it worked for the Cake Boss. And yes that happened, Allison Pregler did an episode on that episode. Check it out. 

Next Time On Lilo and Stitch Crossovers: It’s the family, the family, proud familllyyy as the Prouds take a vacation at Peakly and Jumbas bed but not breakfast and we get some kind of squirrel demon for our experiment of the week. We also get Wizard Kelly appearing...

See you at the next rainbow. 

[urmomsstuntdouble]

brother of mine

aka an itabros character study (?) there are characters and they’ve been studied, idk what else to tell you. this has been in my head for a long while, though i got a lil experimental with how i wrote it. anyway, this is a bit important to me and i know there’s like a lot of really good takes about their relationship already out ther, but here’s mine! i hope you enjoy it!

(pov romano, written in present tense 2nd person, in case that’s a turn off for you. all of the emotional baggage you’d expect.)

6:09- Wake up, still tired. Nothing you can do about that, but you stay in bed a little longer, listening. Is your brother awake yet? Do you want him to be? It’s already noisy outside. 

6:13- Get out of bed after spending four minutes staring at that photograph of your fiance and you that’s taped to the wall. You wonder if you should frame it, but he hasn’t gotten you a ring yet, so you don’t know if he’s serious, or he’s also in love with you. And if you were to frame it, you’d have to take the tape off, and that would render your likeness without a face. Would that be so bad? And you don’t want to think about that, so you push the blanket off. Because you sleep naked, you get cold fast without the blanket. At first, you try to sink deeper into the bed, but that dosn’t work. There’s no goosebumps on your back. So you get up and put clothes on. 

6:15- You walk into the bathroom, pleased that the time is such an even number. A perfect quarter of an hour. But then you see your brother, standing at the mirror, straightening his wavy hair. You sigh, and ask him how long he’s gonna be in the bathroom. You need to straighten your hair too, and you can’t use the toilet with him standing there. Maybe you could’ve at one point, or on a better day, but today isn’t one of those days. 

6:39- You finish straightening your hair. Your brother is still in the bathroom, even though he doesn’t need to be. He’s crosslegged on the toilet, and you’re paying closer attention to your hair than his rambling, but you still know when to nod and fake-laugh. 

6:52- You don’t pay attention to traffic on the way to work, despite driving. It was your turn to drive, but you’re not in the mood to drive. But you can’t ask your brother to drive, because then he’ll worry about you, and you’ll have to tell him why you’re fine. He’ll never believe you. He says he wants to help you a lot, but he never does, at least not in the way you need. Maybe he doesn’t understand you, or maybe you’re just stupid to him. Can he see you, really? Is he even trying? Maybe you are stupid, or maybe you can’t be helped. You almost hit a woman and her daughter, and you scream out the window that they need to walk faster. You don’t believe yourself, and your brother can tell. You growl. Maybe that’ll change his mind. 

7:28- You arrive at the Parliament building. Your brother gets out of the car first, almost while it’s still moving. Don’t want to be late! he chirps, but the pair of you can’t be late. You can’t give the nation avatars their morning briefing if they’re not there. And you’re not even supposed to be there until eight, anyway. You say nothing of this and call him a dumbass. 

7:37- You’re walking slowly through the halls. You have 23 minutes, and you are alone. Some coffee would be nice. You don’t trust yourself to get coffee and get back in 23 minutes, so you don’t. 

8:00- You walk into the briefing room. Your brother is already there. He gives you a little wave when you walk in. Heat flashes through you, and you feel like you could rip a cork out of a bottle with your bare hands. There is no way to test that, because there are no bottles in this room. You sit beside him, in the chair unofficially designated as yours, and begin the briefing. 

9:00- Another meeting. A headache nips at your temples, and you tell yourself it’s not because you didn’t get coffee. It is. In the meeding, someone mentions your separatists, and you straighten your tie. You also shrink back into your seat. They blame you, or maybe think you have answers. You don’t. You are glad your tattoo is covered. 

10:00- You have nothing to do for now, so you read the news. Your brother is doing paperwork. You should be doing paperwork. If you didn’t share an office, you wouldn’t feel so bad about not doing the paperwork. The sound of his pen on paper grates at you. You can hear his progress as the ball-point gets scratchier. You keep scrolling down the news app on your government phone. 

11:00- You start your own paperwork after the third time your brother harrasses you about it. Hundreds of Lovino Vargas’s make your wrist hurt, but he looks smug about finishing first. 

12:54- You get a chunk of your work done. Your brother’s fucked off somewhere without telling you. You leave the office, leave the building, and find a wall to lean against. You smoke, watching your people. If they’re yours? Things are fuzzier in Rome. You wish they weren’t. No one else is so weak in their capital, and it’s only okay because Veneziano is weak here too. A girl smiles at you, and you blow her a kiss. Her blush is cute, but you can’t enjoy it because you’re engaged. 

13:12- Your brother finds you. He wants to get lunch. You say fine, unenthused. You get lunch from a street market. When the vendor hands your food across the counter, your fingers brush. The look in his eyes changes, and he gapes. He knows who you are. You wink at him, and he stands a little straighter. Your brother knows what’s happened too, and beams at him. He pays in a stack of coins. The vendor chuckles, and stares at your brother in awe. They shake hands while you hold your brother’s lunch. You need to get back to work, so you take your food without shaking the vendor’s hand. 

14:00- It’s another hour passed. Your pen sounds different when you sign your name, but the victory feels hollow. You’re slow. 

15:00- It’s warm. Too warm. You’re heavy, and you want to take a nap. You’re sweating again, and miss the ocean. You can’t remember the last time you saw your fiance. You should make arrangements to see him again. 

16:00- It’s still warm. You’ve sweated through your dress shirt. Maybe you should take your blazer off. But then people will know you’re sweating. And your brother isn’t sweating. You keep the blazer on, and wipe your forehead with a tissue. With the tissue still in your hand, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You wipe under your arms with toilet paper, and stare at yourself in the mirror. You’re behind, and you sort of miss the times when you didn’t have paperwork. It was better for your wrists, but worse for everything else. Even so, you could lean back on your fiance’s chest whenever you pleased. He had a soft spot for you. Everyone else’s soft spot is for your brother. You wonder if your fiance is the only person who will ever have such a soft spot for you. You splash your face with cold water and pat it dry. Your eyes looked better when they were lined with sweat. 

17:00- It gets loud outside. You continue working. 

18:00- It’s still loud. You’re still working. Your brother takes a break, smoking by the window. There’s sweat under his arms. A secratary walks in to deliver more papers. She likes his suspenders, and he thanks her. He blows her a kiss. You know, the whole point of smoking by the window is to keep the smoke from getting into the room. The secratary leaves. You ruined it. 

19:00- Your brother drives you home. It’s his turn. He pays attention to traffic. You pick at your nails, and wrestle some words down. Your head throbs, and you need a smoke. Or some coffee. 

20:11- You’re home. It smells like you, and you can breathe. It also smells like your brother. Maybe you smell the same. 

20:47- Dinner. You sit down, punctuated by an opening door. You brother’s boyfriend walks in, and he makes him a plate. You shake your head, and push food around on your plate while they talk about trade deals. You wish he wasn’t here. Or maybe you wish you were somehwere else. Maybe you wish you were on the beach, or maybe you miss your fiance. Actually, you always miss him, but most of the time you’ve forgotten. Watching them talk about the trade hurts anyway. It’s not even trade between the two of them. You figure it out and realize that you wish you were human. If you were human you never would’ve met your brother. You’d never have left Sicilia- Or maybe you’d be married to your fiance by now. Whatever. You wouldn’t know either of the men on the other side of the table, and it would be a better life. 

21:03- You brother’s boyfriend is gone. You’re screaming, and so is your brother. You’re both armed with wine glasses, and you feel yours slipping in your hand. You don’t want to drop it, because he’ll help you clean it. You can see it now- The glass falls and shatters, and you fall with it to pick up the pieces. Your brother’s hands meet yours as he does the same. You scream at him and someone bleeds while the other shouts into a pillow. You drink the rest of your wine. You try to talk so fast that you dribble wine down your shirt. Your throat feels tight and your voice pitches up, and now you sound like him. You tell him he’s stupid and obnoxious and he should’ve kept his half of the country. His eyes widen. Yours would too if someone was yelling at you in your own voice. You both ruin your shirts with tears, and Veneziano drops his wine glass. Good job, you say, and track footprints of wine out of the room. 

21:49- You need to go to sleep. You can hear your brother talking to his boyfriend on the phone. You wish it was light enough to see the picture of your fiance on the wall, and you don’t want to get out of bed to turn the light on. You know it’s there, and that helps, but you really wish you could see him. 

5:03- You didn’t sleep much last night. The quiet in the house hurts a little. You’re still in yesterday’s clothes. You wander downstairs. The floor is clean now, and the kitchen door is open. Your brother is outside. 

5:06- You’re not sorry and you let him know. He’s okay with it and you sort of wish he wasn’t but you’re glad he understadns. He makes you cry too much, but you also make him cry a lot. Maybe you shouldn’t live together. You don’t say that, because it might make him cry again. 

5:08- His head is on your shoulder. You can’t move. You think you’re supposed to put an arm around him and be comforting. Your hands were always too rough, too violent, too dirty. They never learned how to love gently. You wouldn’t know how to comfort. You were never supposed to learn what tenderness was. Last night, you wished you hadn’t. 

5:18- You hug him. He does most of the work. You bury your face in his shoulder pretending it’s someon else’s. 

5:19- He’s sorry. You don’t believe him. 

5:20- You say thank you. 

5:21- Niether of you talk. You might not be ready to talk yet. Is it okay, you ask him? He shrugs, because he’s not ready either. No one’s ever ready. 

5:24- You agree to try again today. You both know it won’t work. You try again. 

[atlafan]

love take it slow, would you be willing to write something about you telling harry that you want him to meet your kid? and maybe the night ends with some smut🥺👀

a/n: this has been in my inbox for awhile, let’s see how this goes...Harry is 35 in this, and y/n is 32. This also turned into pure fluff, sorry no smut! 

The Kids Are Alright

You and Harry had been dating for a couple of months. It was nice having a man in your life again. Your divorce was ugly, to say the least. You had full custody of your kids, and it took over a year before you could make it so. You were finally in a place of stability that allowed you to start dating again.

You had met Harry completely by accident. He saw you struggling one morning on your walk to work. It had started pouring out of nowhere, and you had no umbrella. After just about everything fell out of your purse, he rushed over to you, holding his umbrella above the both of you and helped you with your things. He gave you his umbrella. He said you were dressed much nicer than he was, and you needed it more. You exchanged information after you insisted you get it back to him. The rest progressed from there. You hadn’t told Harry about your ex-husband or your two children. Although, he had his suspicions. You could only go out with him on Friday and Saturday nights, and you never stayed over at his place. 

You needed to make sure you could trust him before even thinking of telling him you had two kids, before you could even think about bringing him around to meet them. Harry just figured you were really busy, or that you had needy clients since you were a therapist. He was busy in his own right since he was an oral surgeon. 

Saturday night had become a regular date night for the two of you, and your kids were happy to see you so happy. They didn’t much care for their father, for good reason. 

“So, when do we get to have date night with this guy?” Your ten year old daughter asks you as she watches you put your jewelry on. 

“I’ve only been seeing him for a couple of months, Candace. It’s too soon for him to meet you and Ben.” You sigh and look at her. “In fact, tonight I’m finally telling him that I have kids.”

“Wait, you never told him about us?”

“No...I didn’t know if he’d run for the hills. I mean, he’s thirty-five, never been married and doesn’t have kids of his own. What if he doesn’t want that for himself?”

“How do you know he doesn’t have kids, he could be lying just like you.” She crosses her arms.

“I haven’t been lying...it just hasn’t come up. You’ll understand some day when you’re older.”

“That’s been your answer for a lot of things over the last couple of years.” She huffs and follows you out of the bedroom. 

The babysitter was already there, sitting downstairs with Ben. He had just turned eight a month or so ago. 

“Alright Rita, I should be home around eleven like usual.”

“Okay, have a great time!” 

You give both of your kids a hug and kiss, and out the door you go. You were meeting Harry at a nice Italian place. He was always taking you to nice places, but you didn’t mind. After having such a shit marriage, and a shit husband, you were happy to be pampered a bit. You meet him in the lobby of the restaurant and he greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He gets a good look at you. “How was your day?”

“Good! Ran some errands, you know how Saturdays go.” You smile.

You both are seated and Harry orders a bottle of wine for the table. He looked tired. 

“Long week?”

“Sort of...took out four impacted wisdom teeth yesterday. Poor kid’s gonna be sore for a bit. It was a longer surgery than usual.” He shrugs. “But she’ll be alright. How was your week?”

“Long, had all my usual people, and a couple of newbies. All in all, good sessions. Only went through two boxes of tissues, don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

You both laugh. The wine is brought over for you both, and it’s poured into your glasses. You both order your dinners, and an appetizer. 

“Harry...I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these last couple of months.”

“Same here, Y/N.” 

“I feel sort of childish asking this, but would you say I’m your girlfriend?” At the ripe age of 32, and having been someone’s wife, the word girlfriend sounded incredibly stupid to you, but here you were. 

“I would.” He smiles. “That’s what I’ve been telling people anyways.”

“Aw, you tell people about me.” 

“Hard not to when you go into work with a hickey on your neck.”

“Oh my god.” You blush. “That one from a couple weeks ago? I’m sorry, I can’t even remember the last time I did that to someone, and-”

“Relax, babe, I’m only teasing.” He places his hand over yours. “Suppose I was goin’ to ask about our status soon too. Nice to know we’re on the same page.” You nod at him. 

Your food is brought over, and it’s delicious. You both enjoy more pleasant conversation. It was nice not having to talk about homework, or whatever else you would talk with other parents about. Although, now that your kids were a little older, you enjoyed the conversations you’d have with them regularly. 

“Care to come back to my place for a bit after dinner? I picked up that cheesecake you like so much for dessert.”

“I’d love that! I’ll follow you there.” 

You drive to Harry’s apartment. Sometimes you wondered why he didn’t just buy a house, but you figured he didn’t need all that space. And he did work a lot, a house would be too much to care of by himself. The home you have now is one you bought only two years ago. You refused to stay in the home where everything went down with your husband. Harry’s place was nice, anyways. Two bedroom, two bath, and plenty of space to spread out. 

You sit down on his couch while he brings more wine over, and a plate with a piece of cheesecake to share. 

“Been looking forward to seein’ yeh all week, you know?”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” You kiss his cheek and take a sip of wine. 

“Would you like to spend the night tonight? I like what we do when we’re doin’ it, but it would also just be nice to have you here to hold onto all night.”

“I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” You sigh and take your phone out. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend the full night with you...”

“So then why do you always leave? Are you allergic to Sunday brunch?” You can’t help but laugh. “I’ve never been able to make you my pancakes. I make really good pancakes.”

“God, my kids love pancakes.” Both of your eyes grow wide when you look at each other.

“Kids?”

“Yes...” You show him a picture of the three of you on your phone. “That’s my daughter, Candace, she’s ten, and that’s Ben, he just turned eight.”

“Ah, so that was the birthday party you had to go to last month.”

“Mhm.” He looks at you.

“Well, they’re really cute.” He chuckles. “A little older than I would’ve expected. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I don’t know, this is all so new. I mean, I’ve been a single mom for nearly four years, you’re the first guy I’ve dated in a long time. And you’re...I mean...do you have secret kids?”

“No.” He laughs. “Never been married either. I’m assuming you have?”

“Yeah...we separated and then divorced. Like I said it was four years ago, and I just only got full custody over my kids a year ago. Their father is a shithead, they didn’t want to be near him. They dreaded every weekend they had to spend with him, and I hated sending him, but legally there wasn’t much I could do. I swear he only fought me on the custody just to spite me. Obviously we were sort of young when I got pregnant with Candace. Everything has worked out, thank god. Luckily I’m good at my job so I keep us afloat. The reason I don’t stay over is because I couldn’t very well ask the sixteen year old girl who babysits for me to watch them all night.” 

“No, I suppose that would be a bit weird.” He smirks. “Got any family nearby? They could always watch ‘em right?”

“Harry.” You roll your eyes and swat a hand at him. “So...it doesn’t freak you out that I’m a mom?”

“Not at all! So, your ex is completely out of the picture?” 

“Completely. He moved across the country, nothing to keep him here now. He sends the kids birthday and holiday cards, that’s about the only contact I allow him to have with them. And to answer your question, my parents only live an hour or so away, and they do visit a good chunk. But I certainly couldn’t ask them to take them for a weekend for the sole reason of staying over at my boyfriend’s house.” 

“No, I guess you’d need a better excuse than that.” He laughs. 

“So how come you’re thirty-five and you never settled down?”

“I put school and work above a lot of things. Think my last serious relationship was nearly three years ago, and she got sick of waitin’ f’me.” He shrugs. “Dated here and there, but I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend in awhile.”

“But you’d like to be mine?”

“Yeah, I like you a lot.” He smiles. 

“Good, because I like you a lot too.” He cups your cheek in his hand.

“Well, if you’re not spendin’ the night, can I take yeh to the bedroom now so I can at least have some time to just lay with you after.”

“I’d like that.” 

You were piss drunk the first time you had sex with Harry. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t had sex in a very long time, well other than with your dildo, but that’s besides the point. You weren’t sure if you would feel tight for him, but after about the third time he said it to you, you had to believe him that you were, in fact, plenty tight. 

Sex with him not was a lot less scary. You enjoyed it very much, and so did he. Your bodies just had a way of connecting. It was something you hadn’t had in a very long time.

//

“How was your date Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Honey, I’ve told you it’s Miss, I’m not a Mrs.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s alright. And it was good, he’s a good man.” You give her fifty dollars and out she goes. 

The next morning you make pancakes for your kids and they’re far too excited about it. 

“Mum, you haven’t made pancakes in forever, what’s the occasion?” Candace asks, dumping a ton of syrup over them.

“Easy with that! Save some for your brother. And there’s no occasion, I just remembered how much you both like pancakes.” You shrug and sit down between them. 

“Mmm, these are so good mumma, thanks.” Ben says. You loved that he still called you mumma. He was such a love-bug. 

“So, how was your date with the oral surgeon?”

“It was good, honey. He’s actually my boyfriend now.”

“Oh, you’ve made it official?!”

“Mhm.” You smile as you take a bite of your food. “And he didn’t wanna run away when I told him about the two of you.”

“When can we meet him?” Ben asks. 

“I’m not sure...even though I’m his girlfriend now I’d like to wait on that I think. I’d hate to bring someone into your lives and then have it not work out.” 

“Did he say if he had kids or was ever married?” Candace asks.

“He’s never been married, and doesn’t have kids of his own. But he really didn’t seem freaked out about you two. He was more so surprised that you weren’t younger. Suppose it would’ve been harder to keep two toddlers a secret.” You laugh. 

“You always tell us never to keep secrets.” Ben says. “How come you get to?”

“Because sometimes when you’re adult, you need to withhold certain things from other adults. You’ll understand when-”

“When we’re older, Jesus Christ.”

“Candace! We don’t speak like that at the table.”

“What? It’s not like I said the f-word.”

“God, help me.” You sigh. 

//

A few more months pass, and you’re feeling really good about things with Harry. You even manage to spend a couple nights with him on the various weekends the kids are with your parents. You two were snuggled up on his couch watching a movie when he paused it.

“I’ve never been to your place, never even picked you up for a date.”

“I know.”

“Well? How ‘bout we start doin’ that. I hate how after dinner we never get to drive together.”

“It’s just...the kids would see you picking me up.”

“And?” He sighs. “Listen, I’ve been thinking...what if it was time I met them? We’ve been together for like six months, I think it makes sense.” 

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a part of my life now, and they’re a part of yours.” 

“Sure...I know they wanna meet you. Guess I’ve been the one holding it up.”

“They’ve been okay with you dating?”

“I think if they loved their father they’d act like most kids and hate to see me move on, but they can’t stand him, so they’re happy for me.”

“It’s none of my business, but-”

“He used to beat on us, all of us. I’d get in the way to spare them, but it was no use if they got home before I did. It was awful, I did everything I could to get out of there, and eventually I did.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“It was a long time ago.” You feel tears prick at your cheeks. “I’ll never be able to understand how someone could their babies, or how the courts didn’t give me full custody right away. He’d only beat on us when he was drunk, and he did stop drinking, but I still didn’t trust him. He tried to prove he was a good father, but it was all rubbish.” You sigh. “It’s all in the past now.” You give him a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to them, maybe we could have you over for a little lunch in the backyard. The kids love when I fire up the grill.”

“That sounds great! What are they into? Like, what are their hobbies?” 

“Well, Candace is a mix. She loves theater and singing, but she also loves soccer, and getting her hands dirty. Ben loves to paint. He absolutely loves his crafts. He likes to play outside, but he couldn’t be bothered with sports. Used to go right up his father’s ass. Candace plays softball too. I feel terrible, I haven’t had much time to play catch with her lately. Luckily, it’s soccer season right now, so she’s not too mad at me about it. Ben plays goalie for her in the backyard, and it works for them.”

“They’re close?”

“They weren’t when they were younger, but they stood by each other when we were going through everything. They’re not best friends, but you can really see the love between them. It’s wonderful.” 

“I like the theater too, actually. I enjoy a good show once in a while.”

“Really?”

“Oh, sure. I acted a bit in school.” 

You could see the wheels turning in Harry’s head.

“Please don’t feel like you need to do anything to impress them. Just be yourself. They were already so amazed that a man gave me his umbrella.” You chuckle.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” He winks at you. “Well, only in the streets.”

He lifts you up of the couch, and you squeal as he takes you to his bedroom.

//

“How was your weekend with Gram and Pop?” You ask the kids as you drive them back home.

“It was so much fun, Gram got us that cereal that you don’t let us have.” Ben says.

“Oh, that one loaded with sugar that you don’t need first thing in morning? That’s spectacular.” You roll your eyes. 

“Did you see Mr. Styles while we were gone?” Candace asks. 

“I did.” The two look at each other. “He asked me if he could meet the two of you soon.”

“He did?!” 

“Mhm, so I told him I would ask the two of you.”

“Well, you know we wanna meet him mumma.” Ben says. 

“Yeah, bring him over.” 

“Alright, I told him we could do a little lunch out back, do a little grilling. Would you both like that?”

“Yes!” They say in unison. 

//

On Saturday around noon, Harry arrives at your house. He thought it was lovely. You gave him instructions to go right around back, so he does so.

“Hello?” He says as he opens the gate. 

“Harry!” You say walking up to him. “Find it okay?” You both kiss quick, and you walk him further into the yard.

“Yeah, it was a really easy drive.” 

He looks around and sees a swing-set, a little net to play soccer with, and a patio with a lovely glass table and chairs. You see he has a couple of bags with him.

“I brought some soda...do you give them soda? I suppose I should’ve asked first.”

“I give it to them on special occasions, suppose this is one of them.” You smile and take it from him, setting it on the table. “I just sent them in to wash up. They were rolling around in the dirt.” 

Candace and Ben walk outside and are stunned when they see Harry. Candace noticed his curls, and quite liked the style of glasses he was wearing. Ben was mesmerized by the tattoos that littered his arms. He wasn’t at all like they pictures, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Tattoos didn’t automatically mean bad. Their father was a bad person and didn’t have a single tattoo. 

“Kids, come say hello, don’t just stand there like statues.” You laugh. Candace extends her arm to shake his hand.

“Hi Mr. Styles, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“How polite.” He smiles and takes her hand. “Feel free to call me Harry if you feel comfortable with that.” 

“Hello.” Ben shakes his hand next. 

“It’s great to meet yeh both. Your mum has told me so much about you. All good things I promise.” The two giggle. “Um...I brought some things for the two of you.”

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t have to...”

“I know.” He reaches into the bag and crouches to Ben’s level. “Mum told me you liked to paint and do crafts, so I got you one of these water color sets. They’re really cool. My niece likes ‘em a lot, thought you might too.” He looks up at you. “And they don’t make a mess.” 

Ben takes it from him, amazed that an adult man was being nice about his hobbies. 

“What do we say, Ben?” 

“Thank you very much.” He beams at Harry. “Mumma, can I open it now?” 

“Sure.” You shrug. “Let me just fill a glass of water for you, you can sit at the patio table.” You get him set up while Harry speaks to Candace. 

“Now, your mum told me you have a ton of hobbies, but mostly you haven’t had someone to play catch with, so I dug up my old mit.” He takes it out of the bag. “It’s for baseball, but figured it could still do the trick.” He takes a brand new softball out of the bag. “What do yeh say? We could toss it around while your mum gets lunch together.”

“I’d love to!” She snatches the ball from him. “Thanks, this is like the best brand out there.” She looks at you and gives you a thumbs up. You laugh as you fire up the grill. 

You smile as you watch Ben use his new water color set, and smile even more while you watch Candace toss the ball with Harry. 

“You know, if you step into it a bit more...” He puts a hand on his hip. “And if you, like, do you mind if I show you?”

“Okay.” 

He jobs over to her. 

“So...you wanna look where you’re throwing, right? And you’re doin’ that, but you’re releasing it back here, it should be when you get here. And if you step and throw, you could really get a more precise thing goin’.”

“I’ve only played one season, and the coach never showed us stuff like this, thanks!”

Harry jogs back to his spot, and Candace does exactly what he said, throwing it to him perfectly. 

“Amazing! You’re a fast learner, Candace.” 

“Way to go honey! She likes playing second base, any tips on that?”

“Oh, tons.”

“I’m not too good at batting either.”

“Well good thing we’ve got plenty of time to get you ready for the season. By the time I’m done with yeh the coach’ll be puttin’ yeh in first every game.” 

“Candace, go wash your hands again, it’s time for lunch.”

“But we’re having so much fun.” She whines.

“You can play more after. Come on, we all need to go wash up.” 

You take Harry inside, and show him to the kitchen where he can wash his hands. You tell him you’ll give him the full tour later. Lunch goes really well. The kids tell Harry all about school. He was so natural with them, it put you at ease. After lunch, Harry continued to help Candace with her softball skills. At a certain point you told her that was enough, and that she should play with her brother. You and Harry sit as the two of them played on the swing-set. 

“This has been a lot of fun, Y/N.”

“Really? Oh, I’m so glad. I think they really like you.”

“I like them too.”

//

Harry started coming over for dinner when he could. The kids really liked having him around. When it had been about a year of the two of you dating, you and the kids asked Harry to move in with you. He liked your home quite a bit, so it didn’t take much for him to agree. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says as you’re both settling into bed. 

“Of course.” 

“Ben asked me to come to his career day...are you alright with that?”

“Yeah! I think he wants us to go together. It’s been on my calendar for a while.”

“I told him I’d make it work, but...what’s he supposed to call me? S’not like I’m his dad...or his step-dad...”

“Your his Harry.” You smile. 

“Do you think you’d ever want to be married again?”

“Maybe, if the right guy came along.” You nudge him. 

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes. “M’serious, I mean we’ve been together over a year, and we haven’t really talked about it. I live here now, I’m in their lives...”

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to marry me to seal the deal.”

“I don’t feel that way. I want to marry you because I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

“Alright, so maybe I’ll ask you soon.” He grins, and now you’re the one to roll your eyes. “I have another question...so I love bein’ an uncle, and I’ve loved steppin’ into this fatherly role with Candace and Ben. It’s honestly something I never saw for myself. Do you think you’d ever want more?” Your face falls.

“I physically can’t have more...I had to have a hysterectomy a few years back.”

“Ah.”

“Is that okay? I mean did you want your own kids?”

“Don’t phrase it like. I do have my own kids...and no, I don’t really want, like, a baby. I honestly don’t think I’d have the time to care for an infant.” 

“Me neither. I’m sort of relieved you’re okay with it. I know I’m still young enough to have a baby, I feel like I finally have my life back. Babies are cute and wonderful, and I enjoyed that time with them so much, but I’m over that time in my life. I can actually have real conversations with them now, you know?” 

“I’m really glad we’re on the same page.” 

“Me too.” 

//

About six months later, Harry proposed and you accepted. You both wanted a small wedding. You had a very simple ceremony in your back yard with only close friends and family. The kids had gotten into the habit of calling Harry, Dad. Sometimes they would switch on and off, but Dad mostly stuck. He liked the sound of it a lot. 

You had made sure to sign every form you could to Harry had permissions at school to pick the kids up and drop them off. All their teachers knew Candace and Ben had a step-father. 

Harry was full engrossed in the kids lives. He became Candace’s softball coach, and all the kids loved him. You had never seen Candace play so well. He also made sure to support all of Ben’s school art shows. For a guy that didn’t want to be a father, he was kicking butt at being a good one. 

Around Candace’s twelfth birthday, you and Harry had decided on something very important, and it was time to share it with the two of them.

“We never have family meetings, this is weird.” Candace says as her and Ben sit on the couch. 

“Well, that’s because there’s something mum and I want to tell you.” He clears his throat. “So...even though we’re married, and that makes me your step-father, legally that really doesn’t mean much. I’m not considered a true guardian. And even though the school knows I’m your step-dad, I’ve still run into some issues here and there. Your mum and I work a lot, and we each need to be able to dismiss you easily or whatever it is.” He takes a packet of paper out of his back pocket. “Also...I’ve been in your lives for nearly three years...and I consider myself to be more than just your step-dad, wouldn’t you both agree?”

“Yeah, obviously. We call you dad all the time. Whenever someone asks who you are I just say you’re my dad.”

“I do the same thing.” Ben says. 

“Right, so...we thought we’d make that official.” He hands Candace the papers. 

“Certificate of Adoption?” She looks up at the two of you. 

“It’s taken us some time to get this all together, but it’s legal now.” You explain. 

“I’ve adopted the two of you, hope that’s okay.” 

They both stand and hug Harry immediately. If something were to ever happen to you, you’d want them with Harry. Your parents were great and all, but you wouldn’t want them ripped away from their father. 

“Are you serious?” Candace asks teary eyed. “You really love us that much?”

“I love you both more than anything. You two are my kids, and I won’t have someone tellin’ me you’re not.” 

The truth was, there were a ton of parents who liked to gossip about the two of you. Ever since Harry came into your life and things got more serious. You wouldn’t look at him and know he was such one of the most sought after oral surgeons in the area. When he started coaching Candace’s softball team, that was when the gossip got even worse. The two of you couldn’t stand it any longer. It also warmed your heart that Harry truly thought of Candace and Ben as his own. Because of Harry you were able to give them a normal life again. 

“So now that his is official, I have a question.” Ben says. “If we’re your kids does that mean our last names can be Styles now too? I mean, mum’s is.” 

It was true, you had heightened your last name. You didn’t even do that with your last husband. You were a doctor and you earned that title, why should his name be attached to that? But with Harry, well, you just like the way that sounded.

“You both want my last name?”

“Yes.” They say at the same time. He looks at you. 

“I think we can make that work. It really doesn’t make sense for you to have his last name anymore, does it?” They both shake their heads no. “We really should all have the same last name.”

“I agree.” 

The two of them high five each other. 

“Now then.” You wipe a couple of tears away. “Go put on some nice clothes, we’re going out to eat tonight to celebrate.” 

The two race upstairs while Harry wraps his arms around you. 

“So, Mrs. Y/L/N-Styles, I’d say that went pretty well.”

“Mhm, can you believe they want to be Styles’ too?”

“How could they not? S’a pretty cool name.” 

You kiss each other and wait for them to come back down. You never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d get a second chance at a happy life. Harry was everything you needed and more. You were incredibly grateful and lucky. And to think, if you had simply had your umbrella that day on the street, none of this would be yours. 

[toplinetommy]

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Six) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: none

a/n: thank you so much to @pizzasloot​ for proofreading!! as always, feedback is always welcome :-)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

March 2019 - Denver, CO

Planning a 21st birthday party for Tyson was way harder than you thought it would be, plain and simple. You thought your college days, when everyone was turning 21, would’ve prepared you for a few more, but boy, were you wrong. When girls turn 21, they want the big balloons and the cake with the Barbie on it, but what about guys? Not to mention, Tyson wasn’t even American, so the anxiety made you think he wouldn’t care as much as a typical  21-year-old American would.

Nevertheless, with help from JT, Kerfy, and Sammy, you were able to pull it off. You were able to corral a good chunk of the Avalanche roster to attend the party, plus some of Tyson’s friends outside of the team. Tyson knew you were planning something big for his birthday, but he was unsure of what it was exactly other than throwing a pregame at the Rookie House and then going bar hopping downtown. 

While he and the rest of the Avs were at practice this morning, and while you and Caitlyn were on your lunch break at work, you snuck into the Rookie House to lightly decorate the place. You decided to get the typical big ‘21’ balloons in silver, alongside a hefty lineup of alcohol. You somehow convinced yours and Caitlyn’s boss to take a longer lunch, in exchange for not taking lunch the next day, so you were able to take your time and be there when Tyson got home from morning skate.

You had just finished laying out his birthday present on his bed when you heard the garage door opening, causing a flight of anxiety to course through you as you rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. As you settle next to Caitlyn in front of the decorations, Tyson, JT, and Kerfy walk through the garage door together, still caught up in their previous conversation.

“Happy birthday!” The two of you yell excitedly, causing Tyson to turn his head from his friends and to the two of you in the living room. His face erupts in a smile, eyes moving back and forth between you and Caitlyn and the decorations that are set up. He’s in awe as he looks at the array of silver balloons, the small birthday cake placed on the coffee table, and the ‘finally 21 and legal in America’ banner. 

He reaches the two of you, giving Caitlyn a quick hug while thanking her before he embraces you in his arms tightly, “Thank you.”

He pulls away, and you rub your hands along his shoulders and biceps as he moves completely away. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”

“We know, but we wanted to,” you say, gesturing between you and Caitlyn. She smiles at you, hiding the fact that you essentially had to beg her to come help and that all of this was 100% your idea. Both JT and Kerfy comment on the decorations before disappearing into the rest of the house. 

“Where did you get this banner?” He chuckles, pointing to the black lettering being held up by a string. You and Caitlyn both laugh, knowing it was a funny and somewhat dumb addition to the decorations.

“This shop on Etsy does custom ones,” You answer. “I thought it’d be funny.”

“I love it,” He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side. You check your watch to see the time, noticing that you and Caitlyn need to head back to your office soon.

“We have to get back to work, but I did get you a present. It’s in your room if you want to go open it?” You ask. He nods his head excitedly and the two of you go downstairs, leaving Caitlyn in the living room.

He sees the medium-sized gift bag sitting nicely on the edge of the bed, grabbing it, and sitting down. He opens your card first, reading it to himself. You watch as his eyes move left-to-right on the card, seeing a smile forming on his face from both the card and the extra note you wrote on it. He sets the card down next to him while patting the same spot for you to take a seat beside him.

You sit down, eyes on him as he pulls the tissue paper and the contents from the bag. His eyes scan over the small package of ukulele strings, setting them down to the side and digging in the bag again. He pulls each item out one by one, his smile only getting bigger as he sees a shot glass that says ‘legal as fuck, eh’, a pair of diamond-patterned dress socks, and a framed Polaroid of the two of you from Gabe’s wedding last year.

“Where did you get this photo from?” He asks, closely examining it. It’s a candid picture of the two of you that he had never seen before. Tyson’s shirt was unbuttoned showing his torso, much like the rest of the guys there, the both of you mid-dance and he’s holding your hands in the air. Even with how blurry and small the photo is, yours and Tyson’s smile are clear as day.

“Sydney gave it to me after the wedding,” You answer, looking up at him. “I kinda forgot I had it because I found it the other day when I was cleaning. It got under my dresser somehow.”

“Y/n, this is amazing,” He admires, setting the items down and turning to look at you. “Thank you, so much, really.”

You smile sheepishly, your cheeks warming at the extra attention. He’s looking into your eyes when you turn to face him fully and he leans in to wrap his arms around you, bringing you in for yet another hug. A loud yell of your name from upstairs causes the two of you to pull away slightly.

“I gotta get back to work,” you whisper. Even as you started to pull away, getting ready to leave, Tyson doesn’t let you go as quickly. He dragged the arm that was around your back to where your neck met your shoulder. It feels like time is moving in slow motion as his eyes glance to your lips before back to your eyes.

“y/n! We have a meeting in 35 minutes, let’s go!” Caitlyn shouts once again, snapping the two of you back to reality. You stand up, hugging Tyson once more as he thanks you again for the gift.

--

By the time most of the Avalanche roster had made their way through the front door of the Rookie House, Tyson was already four shots and a mixed drink deep. He had insisted he take one with you the second you got back to his house after work, and had convinced you and his roommates to take a shot before anyone else arrived. 

Knowing he was going to start feeling the effects of the alcohol soon, you pulled him aside to take photos in front of the balloons and banner you had set up earlier. You hand your phone to Caitlyn and lean into Tyson’s side, him squeezing you impossibly close, causing a laugh to slip from your lips. You pose for a few more photos before having some other people join in for group shots. 

Once you get your phone back you look through them all, finding the best ones to post on Instagram. You choose two: one where Tyson’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you’re leaning into his side, your hand splayed in his lower abdomen. The second one is more on the candid side. Your eyes are squinted close and your mouth is open, mid-laugh from Tyson pressing his fingers harshly into your side. Tyson continues taking photos while you edit them and open up Instagram typing out a caption before hitting post. Tyson feels the vibration of the notification in his pocket and pulls it out reading the caption and swiping through the photos. 

yourusername: happy 21st to my superstar of a best friend. glad you finally dont have to use your big-shot hockey player status to get into bars now! cheers to you💥

He laughs before typing out a comment and sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

josty17: thx for exposing me🙄

The pre-game is in full swing by the time everyone’s finally arrived. As Tyson’s best friend and designated drinking buddy, you give yourself the duty to make sure he always has a drink in his hand. As you’re making him his final drink before heading out to the bars, his large body collided with yours. 

“Hey best friend,” he greets, teeth shining under his wide smile under the kitchen lights. 

“Hey best friend,” you laugh, putting the cap back on the bottle of New Amsterdam in front of you. You grab the lemonade, opening it and filling the rest of the glass. “Here’s your refill.”

“Can we do another tequila shot?” He asks with pleading eyes. Luckily, he had an optional morning skate before their game tomorrow, while you on the other hand had an 8-5 job. The pleading eyes on Tyson’s face give you little room to say no, so you grab the bottle of tequila dramatically and the lime slices next to it. 

He grabs two shot glasses and you pour the shots, sprinkling salt onto yours and Tyson’s fists. You raise your glass to cheers his and give a quick toast,

“Here’s to being way more successful than I was at 21 and to this year being the best year yet. I love you and happy birthday superstar!” You cheer, clinking your glass with Tyson’s and downing the shot. 

Once Tyson finishes swallowing his shot, he cheers loudly, drawing the attention of those surrounding you. Tyson pulls you in for a hug, which is probably at least the thirteenth time he’s hugged you today, but you’re not complaining. 

“Thank you again for all of this, and for my gift earlier. This all means a lot.”

You laugh and shrug off the compliment, “it wasn’t just me, but you know I’d do anything for you and besides, you wouldn't have done anything big unless I took it over.” He laughs in agreement, knowing that he wasn’t one to pass up a party like this but would’ve never been the one to plan it for himself. 

Once he finishes the drink, the large group all starts ordering their Ubers or heading out in their own cars if they have someone to drive. Your group, consisting of Tyson, JT, Sammy, Gabe, and Tyson, all piles into the Uber that you ordered minutes ago. You’re all the first to leave, everyone in tow, all in agreement on the first bar to meet at.

As the night gets later, the rowdiness of the group of men you’re with only increases. It was a lot for you to handle at the start, the pressure to make this a good birthday for Tyson and being around so many of his friends in a larger than normal group only adding to it. The time was nearing last call at the last bar you were all at. The large group of broad hockey players had started to dwindle as guys headed home to get rest for tomorrow.

Tyson is starting to hit that stage of drunk where if he sits for too long, he’ll want to go to sleep, but at the same time, you can’t seem to keep him in one spot for more than a few minutes. Throughout the night, the boys had been feeding him shots, making sure that if they saw Tyson’s hands empty, they wouldn’t be for much longer. In order to keep him out for a little longer, you drag him to his feet from where he's sitting at the booth to the edge of the dancefloor where some of the guys are located.

As you approach Tyson, Gabe, and Nate, Tyson takes ahold of your hand, interlocking your fingers together, he leads you through the crowd. He looks back at you, with a wide smile as his expression is the only thing you see, the large crowd and bright neon lights turning into a blur. It was like he was trying to pull you closer to him with nothing but a subtle smirk and a twinkle in his eye; the twinkle in his eye causing you to match his smile with an equally wide one.

His shoulders are slouching and you’re somewhat surprised that his light blue button-up is still on over his black t-shirt and not tied around his waist, knowing he easily got overheated when he drank. Gabe embraces him in a bro hug, cheering loudly about how he’s still alive and that he better be ready for the game tomorrow. Tyson was well aware of tomorrow night’s game and made you promise him that you wouldn’t let him get too drunk, in hopes of his hangover being bearable in the morning. 

Because of this, you decide to leave the small group of guys to go get him water in hopes of clearing his head a little. When you get back to the group, Tyson doesn’t take notice of your sudden presence, even as you shove the water into his hands. “I think I’m going to invite her to Canada this summer,” he yells in a slur over the music to his teammates. 

“Who’re you inviting to Canada?” you ask, sticking your body fully into the circle. You stand next to him, hesitantly reaching for his free hand with one of yours to connect them again. He interlocks his fingers with yours without a thought and stares blankly towards you once the question has left your mouth. 

“Uhhh, no one,” he brushes off with a stutter. You look at him quizzically before ignoring what you heard, assuming the alcohol is what caused you both confusion. 

“Y/n, this is water,” he complains once he takes a sip. You laugh and roll your eyes at your friend. It was nearing one-thirty in the morning and he had already consumed more drinks than you could keep count of. He was clearly past the level of drunk, with how he was stumbling when he walked and slowly slurring his words as he spoke. 

“Drink it and we can get you another drink before we leave,” you negotiate. You assume he agrees to your negotiation as he chugs his water faster than you’ve seen him chug anything before. With his triumphant look as he shows you the now-empty glass, your plan failed you, and the guys surrounding you laugh knowingly.

“How about this? Nate and them will go get refills for all of us,” You eye Nate, Tyson, and Gabe as you speak. “And we can go get some fresh air outside and meet them back here in a few?” 

They all understand what you’re getting at, nodding their heads and saying they’ll see you in a bit before heading towards the bar. You tug on Tyson’s hand, heading for the front exit of the bar, maneuvering between the drunk and sweaty bodies. Once the Denver winter air hits both of your faces, you slyly pull out your phone to order an Uber back to his house.

You had let go of his hand once you got outside, and crossed your arms over your chest, phone still in hand. Tyson’s teeth chatter a little from the cold and he rests his head on your shoulder in hope of pulling any sort of warmth from your body.

Minutes pass by full of incoherent conversation from Tyson, most of it him telling you he’s cold and that he wants to go back inside, to which you respond with that you’ve only been outside for a few minutes. He easily believes the lie as another five minutes pass by and you’re shoving him into the backseat of an Uber. 

Once the door is closed behind you, he whips his head towards you, “Y/n! Where are we going? I thought we were just taking a break.”

“I’m taking you home, Tyson,” you explain. “It’s really late and you have a game tomorrow.”

He pouts at your explanation, but he stops complaining anyways. The bumpiness from the potholes on the ride home has him focusing on his breathing and leaning his head on your shoulder once again until you’re pulling him out of the car and to his garage.

He tries entering the code and after the fourth failure, you shove him aside, “What’s the code?”

“It’s 3717.” He mumbles.

You try the code and it doesn’t work and after your third attempt, it’s still not working. “It isn’t working, are you sure it’s 3717?”

“Nope,” He enunciates. 

You look at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you going to make me call your roommates to figure it out?”

“No, let me do it.” He asserts, throwing his arm over your shoulder and punching in the code, and the creak of the garage opening makes you let out a sigh. 

“What the fuck was the code?”

“A secret I’ll never tell,” he salutes, making his way to the mud-room door. As you walk behind him, you clench your fists in annoyance at your friend's actions, giving him the benefit of the doubt from his drunken state.

He stumbles up the small flight of concrete steps, walking inside and instantly heading to the kitchen to find some sort of snack to soak up the alcohol. The rustling of packages stops as Tyson whips around,

“I want a grilled cheese. Will you make me one? Please?”

You drop your shoulders in a groan, silently saying yes as you move to the fridge to grab the ingredients. You chuckle at the organic cheeses in the fridge and the weird oat nut bread he has. Tyson hops up onto the counter beside his stove, swinging his legs as he watches you prepare his sandwich. 

As you go to put the sandwich in the pan, his hand grabs yours pulling it back. “You forgot the pickles!” He exclaims, jumping from his spot to the fridge and pulling out a jar of bread and butter pickles. 

“That is the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen,” you fake gag. He places a handful of pickles on the sandwich and then moves back to his previous position on the counter. “I don’t think I can ever see you as the same person again.”

Tyson’s face fills with hurt, and you’re not quite sure if he’s faking it or the alcohol in his body actually makes him think that. 

“I hate pickles.” You state, eyeing him as you flip the sandwich over. 

“I feel like I’ve seen you eat one before.” He responds, dipping his fingers into the pickle jar and snacking on one. 

“Have you not noticed how I always give you my pickles when we eat out?” You ask, thinking back to the countless diner and sports bar trips where the first thing you’d do when you got your plate of food was give him your pickle. 

“Well, yeah,” he answers quickly with a shrug. “I just thought you did that because I like them so much.” He smiles at the memories, biting into one more pickles chip before clasping the lid back onto the jar. You smile softly at the thought, too, before turning off the stove and sliding the sandwich out onto a plate for your friend. 

He grabs the plate and instantly drags you down the stairs to his room where he plops on his bed, criss-cross applesauce, white Adidas still on his feet, causing you to rip his feet from underneath him.

“Tyson, your shoes are disgusting from the bar,” You puff, taking them off his feet since he was too preoccupied with his sandwich. He thanks you through a full mouth before you join him on his bed, folding your legs underneath you to mirror his position. 

“Slow down there, killer,” you joke as you notice how fast he’s eating and how many extra large bites he’s taken. He swallowed the last piece harshly before setting the plate on the ground at the foot of his bed. 

“Are you sleeping over?” He lays down, eyeing you with droopy eyes waiting for an answer.

“I can, but I have work early,” you remind him, shuffling to stand up from his bed as you itch the back of your arm. 

“So then you’re sleeping over,” He states matter of factly. His eyes are closed now as he senses the movements of you standing up from the bed. With it almost being two in the morning and you having work early in the morning, you really should get home but with the added time of needing an Uber from your alcohol consumption, you decide staying is best. You set a handful of alarms on your phone, making sure you leave enough time for you to drive back to your place, get ready, and then get to work, all before 8:30 am.

“Let’s get you changed. You want shorts?” You start. “They’re in your dresser, right?” You ask for clarification. You hear him say yes tiredly, and you start shuffling through the chestnut drawers.

“You know, I really wanted to kiss you earlier when you were giving me my gift,” Tyson thinks aloud in a mumble as he sits on the bed. The admission causes you to halt your movements in your search for shorts for him. “Would you have let me kiss you? Wait, no, don’t answer that.”

Him telling you not to answer pushes a wave of relief through your body, thankful for not having to answer that question. As you open the third drawer you think to yourself, would you have let him kiss you? You didn’t see the harm in it, knowing that most guy and girl best friends shared at least one kiss throughout their friendship. Even Caitlyn and Tucker had asked you on multiple occasions if you had kissed to which you always replied with a harsh no. 

You finally locate a pair of shorts and walk back towards Tyson, helping him stand from the bed to get changed. He’s just coherent enough to strip out of his button-down and white t-shirt; where he starts to struggle is when his hands reach the button of his jeans. He pushes them down his thighs, he gets stuck at his knees he starts to stumble, falling into the bed and you laugh lightly at your best friend’s movement.

He curses out a sigh, before sitting up and finally getting them off and pulling shorts on.

“You good there?”

“Yes, bedtime.” He huffs decidedly, shuffling up the bed and throwing the covers away so he can get under them. 

You stand up, moving back to his dresser and closet to find clothes to wear when you hear a whine from behind you. “Hurry up, I want cuddles.”

You laugh at his newfound neediness, something he always was around you but it came out much more than normal tonight. Whether it was from the level of drunk he was or just the new shift in the comfort the two you felt in your friendship. You reemerge from his bathroom, changed into a pair of his sweats and his Colorado Eagles shirt.

“I like the shirt,” he chirps, smiling from his spot in bed. He continues to watch you as you lay down next to him and text Caitlyn, asking her to call you in the morning just in case your alarm doesn’t wake you. He’s on his side facing you, one hand tucked under his head and the other moving to rest in the air as he makes grabby hands. “I said I wanted a cuddle.”

“Fine,” you huff, even though you’re smiling and scooting your body down and underneath his arm. Your fingers find their way over his rib cage, lightly scratching at the bareness of his back, just underneath his shoulder blade.

“I know I said thank you a million times, but thank you for such an amazing birthday.” He speaks, voice quiet for the first time in hours. 

You flick your eyes up to where his are a few inches higher, “I loved doing it for you, Tys. I’m glad you had an amazing day.”

He stares into your eyes a moment longer before shuffling up the bed a few inches so he can rest his cheek on your forehead. “Can you scratch my elbow?”

You move your fingers from his shoulder blade to his elbow, lightly scratching at the muscles in his triceps. He softly groans at the feeling and you bite back a laugh in reaction. Soon his breath is heavy over your face and you're trying to force the smile off your face so you can focus on going to bed. But it’s hard, being this close in proximity at such a high level of intimacy with your best friend is causing an explosion of feelings in your heart and a warmth occupying your body. You think to yourself how light you’ve felt all night by his side and you think back to his earlier comment about how he wanted to kiss you. Not even an hour ago the attempt would scare you away, but now, you’re not so sure. 

When you turn over to get in a more comfortable position, your eyes land on the new decoration on his bedside table. You squint your eyes to get a better look and you recognize it as the Polaroid you gifted him earlier in the day. The soft smile on your face nearly triples in size at the thought of him putting your picture near his bed and a little part of you wants to steal it back just for you to place it near your bed in your own home. 

At the feeling of Tyson’s heavy breaths at the back of your neck, you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. Sliding your head deeper into the pillow, you play with Tyson’s fingers on the arm that’s laid over you before interlocking them and falling asleep. 

The ringtone of your phone is what pulls you from your sleep the next morning. You try to find your phone with your eyes closed, but with no luck on your side, you squint open your eyes and grab your phone. Seeing as it’s a phone call from Caitlyn and not your alarm, also seeing that it’s already 7:45, you jolt awake. 

“Fuck,” you curse into the phone as you pull it to you ear, sitting up against the pillows. Tyson’s arm tightens around you, his figure Shull heavy with sleep. 

“Dude, I saw your car across the street. Please tell me you’re home and like getting a ride to work.” Caitlyn rushes out. 

“I fucking wish. You literally just woke me up, shit.”

“Y/n!”

“Please tell me you have clothes I can borrow and that we can carpool to work. I’ll owe you big time, please.”

All of the commotion doesn’t wake Tyson to your surprise, but as you sit up further in the bed as he starts to stir next to you. 

“I’ll be over in like ten, you’re literally a life saver.”

“It’s so early, shhhhh,” Tyson mumbles next to you, turning further into your body. You want to scream out of anxiousness and stress but Tyson resting his head onto your chest stops you and you lift your hand to comb through his hair. 

“I have work in like, 30 minutes,” and that statement jolts him awake just as much as the phone call not a minute prior did for you. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he rubs his eyes. He rolls over onto his back and you miss the warmth of both his arm and his chest against you instantly. You throw the comforter over you, standing up from the comfort of his bed. You stumble to find your socks and grab your outfit from the night prior, moving to the bathroom with the intention of changing back into it before changing at Caitlyn’s. 

“You can just keep the clothes,” Tyson starts, his eyes open now as he sits further up against his headboard. “I can get them back eventually.”

“I promise you’ll get it back, thank you,” you speak, turning back to the man in bed and going to hug him goodbye. It’s an awkward hug with how you’re standing and how he’s half laying down but he gives you a kiss on the forehead before bidding you goodbye. 

“Text me when you’re alive,” you shout as you finally exit his room. 

Once you’re ready and buckled into Caitlyn’s passenger seat, the two of you speed through the short commute to your offices. 

“Caitlyn, before we get there I need to like, unload on you.” You start shakily, playing with your phone in your lap. 

She glances at you before turning her attention back to the road in front of you. 

“So, remember yesterday when I gave Tyson his gift and I was kinda taking a while? Well, it’s uh, he almost kissed me that’s why.”

“What?!” She exclaims, whipping her head to face you as she comes to a stop at the stoplight. “You cannot be serious!”

“Yeah and then when I took him home, it was just a lot with what was going on.”

“Please tell me you guys did not hook up,” she groans, stepping on the gas as the light turned green. “You guys can’t finally decide to get together and have it happen when you’re drunk off your asses.”

“God, Caitlyn, no we didn’t ‘finally’ hook up or whatever,” you stress in confusion. “I just made him food and it was just, really domestic, and then when I was finding him clothes to change into, he was like ‘I wanted to kiss you earlier’ and asked me if I would’ve let him if he did.”

“And? Did you say yes?”

“First of all, why would you assume that I would’ve said yes? And secondly, no because he told me not to answer.” You brush off. 

“Y/n,” she starts, pulling into an empty parking spot. She puts the car in park and turns to face you fully. “Before I give you my speech, answer this: you would’ve let him kiss you, correct?”

Even though you barely have to think before answering, the question oddly carries a lot of weight and it scares you. “I think so, yes,” you nod your head slowly.  

“Okay, hear me out. You and Tyson are best friends and not just like normal best friends, you two are inseparable. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because it’s not, but I think you need to start noticing the small changes you two have been making recently. You wouldn’t just let a friend kiss you, you’d only want that if you felt something more.”

Her rant makes you sink back into your seat, making you feel cornered in the small confines of the passenger seat of her car. The combination of your hangover, her speech, and it not even being nine in the morning makes your stomach churn. 

“Yeah, I guess so, I don’t know.” You ramble, grabbing your purse from the floor in front of you and opening the car door. “It all happened in one night, it’s a lot to take in.” You defend yourself as you meet her at the end of the car. 

“You guys have been going through some change for a while now, Jack and I have noticed it. Hell, I think some of the guys on the team have started to see it, too.” She insinuates with exaggerated hand movements. “Like I said back when you were with Aiden, you obviously waited to tell Tyson about him for a reason and that was almost six months ago. Think about why you did that, and I think you’ll know what’s going on.”

The two of you ride up the elevator from the parking garage to your office in silence after that. The statement by your friend doing circles inside your brain as you try to figure out the real reason behind all of your previous actions with Tyson. As the elevator doors ding open and the white lights of your office shock you, you opt for a closing statement. 

“I think it’s just hard because I’m clearly attracted to him, and I have been for three years now. Usually, with friendships, I lose that interest pretty early on and like, build a wall if that’s what you want to call it,” you start as the two of you make way down the hall to the break room in need of coffee. 

As you select a K-Cup for both you and Caitlyn a smile grows on your face as you continue. 

“But with Tyson, every time I see him I feel the physical attraction with him, which sounds kind of shallow since that’s all I’m emphasizing right now, but it’s not just that. He’s such a good human and a good friend and knows exactly what to say to me even if I don’t want to hear it and all of that coupled with how handsome he is makes me feel a lot of different things that I still can’t exactly put my finger on.”

You turn your focus to Caitlyn, who has a knowing look playing on her face, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans against the fridge,

“See, I think you’re starting to figure it out.”

You smile, grateful for your friends words of wisdom. Even If you wanted her to just spell it out for you, her talk still helped as the two of you go your separate ways a few minutes later once your coffees are poured and after you ramble on about your night with Tyson a little bit longer.

--

tag list: @reavenedges-lies​ @oilers2997​ @quinnsbxtch​ (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

[theoriquewitherseld]

Heck I DO wanna know more! I'm super interested in thia fic 👀

OK I am SUPER happy receiving this ask, but alas all I can offer is a lot of excerpts,, more under the cut

When Jacques arrives at Stain'd, he finds the records to be VERY accurate: it's a deadzone. That would likely explain the weird look the conductor gave him when he requested to get off. There's no longer anybody here

Back then there must have been some, perhaps, in order to enact Lem's apprenticeship. But he still regards the situation with an air of apprehension. Large chunk of reports were missing, reports that were leading up to his disappearance. It could be that VFD hid it, of course, but intentional or not, its denominator remains the same: something monumentally terrible occured for that to happen.

And he will have to walk straight to it. Or at least, its aftermath.

The rattle of the train leaving startles him, and he shakes off his nerves. He wants so badly to get back on the train, jump on the railings perhaps but the rear has gotten quite a distance away. He's already alone.

(Oh God I just realized I have no idea what people do after they get off trains. Should there be like people taking ur tickets or something?? Ive been on a train only once and that was super long ago)

The Stain'd Station was utterly deprived of life. Everything was cracked and looked in the danger of falling apart. Litter and dirt was strewn all around. There was no place that Jacques just wanted more to bail out of immediately (except, perhaps, that one wasp-infested area but that is besides the point). It unnerves him, to listen to the echoes of his footsteps in the abandoned station, with its business nothing more than a ghost of its past. It rattles him more than the rattle of train wheels on the tracks. But he trudges on, hoping to find some clue.

Out on the street was no better. All buildings were boarded up, some windows smashed. Brown grass was growing out of the sidewalks. There was few vehicles on the side of the road: a brown rusty one with its hood popped up and its insides gone, a yellow cab so terribly dented, and a black one with its paint job scratched and all four of its tires missing. It was a miserable place, not fit for any human life, much less an apprenticeship. He grimaces in dismay. This is where they dumped his brother? Even as a containment procedure, it was a bit much. No person should be in this place.

But that wasn't the most pressing issue. The most pressing issue is where to start. He does not have the faintest idea where he is in this desolate town, much less where his brother stayed for the duration in the past — except for the address of The Lost Arms. But that information was useless without a map, and every other map he scoured to know about the town has vehemently insisted that Stain'd-By-The-Sea does not exist. Whether VFD has already tampered with those maps, he can not tell.

He had hoped there may be a clue in there, some forgotten item, a thing accidentally left behind. But with no map, his best course of action is to simply search every establishment and hope for serendipity. Not all of the best things are necessarily good things.

He hears a rumble of an engine.

His gaze snaps upwards, puzzled if whether or not he had imagined it. Then he can see the yellow dented cab making its way towards him at a snail's pace. Jacques's heart stops, and gripped his suitcase until his knuckles turned white. It was a trusty little suitcase, filled with tools and files that are of great use of him, but he's not so sure if it were of any use against a damned ghost cab. If it were really a ghost. If Kit was here, she would've scoffed at him. But he's not really feeling up to an argument, not when his feet was stuck to the pavement, body frozen into place. He stares, heart pounding like there was no tomorrow as the taxi pulls up to its side, exactly right in front of him, and stops.

But then the window rolls down, and Jacques felt very, very foolish, but immensely relieved, as it reveals a worn and much younger face of a boy with a busted blue cap.

"Well, hello there friend," he says, with a voice just as tired. "Another visitor was the last thing we expected, but —" he gives a small shrug, "— here we are. Need a taxi?"

It took him a moment to realize how stupid he looked with his mouth gaping open. "I-I'm sorry," Jacques stammered, once he found his voice. "We?"

Another younger face pops up from below the young driver, and Jacques nearly jumps in surprise. "That would be us, the Bellerophon brothers," he reveals with a squeaky but cracked voice. "I'm Pecuchet, and this—" he points upward, and his brother tipped his hat at him, " — is Bouvard, but that makes people's tongue tired, so you can call him Pip, and me, Squeak."

The driver known as "Pip" frowned. "Are you alright though? You've looked like you've seen a ghost."

His eyes fluttered. "Er  — Yes, yes, I... I am afraid I also didn't expect anyone to come here either." He tips his white hat at them in turn. "Greetings to you, I am Ja— James Moore."

Internally, he cringed. It was a sloppy pseudonym, but he can't risk revealing who he is in the potential situation VFD managed to track his trail, they wouldn't be able to hold incriminating evidence against him. Curiously, it didn't arouse much suspicion from the odd duo, except for a slight tilt of the head.

"Well, nice to meet you Mr. Moore. Do you need a ride anywhere?"

Jacques is not quite sure what to think of climbing into a cab with kids of odd names in an abandoned town. However, his relief in discovering that there is fellow life, inexplicable as it is, and a likelier possibility of gaining information triumphed over whatever reservations he had at the moment. In the pursuit of his search, with its very nonexistent lead, he'd take anything.

"I'd like to go to the Lost Arms please."

"Sure," Pip reached out behind him and opened the door. "Hop in."

He pauses, and then climbs in and closes it shut, and soon enough, the two brothers drive away from the Station with startlingly expert hands on both wheel and brakes. Jacques is fairly impressed at their coordination.

"Say," Pip starts, once they got a quite the distance away. "Apologies if it sounds prying, friend, but out of curiosity, what business does a stranger have with Stain'd-By-The-Sea?"

That shook him out of his stupor. Idiotically, he hasn't prepared for that, he was ascertain there won't be anyone here, he even got business cards and all but it's not in his suitcase (which he wants to smack himself on). His mind blanks for a moment, but he manages to scramble an answer that isn’t necessarily a lie nor a truth. "I am private investigator hired to search for someone last seen in this town."

Pip looked at him through the rearview mirror, which was a bit dirty and cracked. "Oh? That certainly does explain why someone wants to be in this town."

Jacques didn't bother to clarify he does NOT want to be here at all, but he nods his head instead.

He expertly steered the wheel. "You wouldn't happen to be allowed the details no? Sorry, but interesting things have rarely happened here since..."

"I'm afraid not, no," Jacques blinks. That felt off. "Speaking of visitors, you haven't happened to have driven someone around lately no?"

"Until you came along? Not one for the past year. No outsiders at the very least."

He deflates a little, but he's unsurprised. So he really wasn't here recently. He was about ask more, when the taxi came to a stop in front of a shabby and derelict building he would presume to be the Lost Arms.

Once again, Pip reached out to open the door for him. "Here we are then, Mr. Moore."

"Thank you," he says, retrieving his wallet. "How much is the fare?"

Pip blinked in surprise. Then his eyes flickered towards the wallet, and his eyes widened further. "Huh, I never expected a paying customer today either."

It puzzles him so much that he tilts his head. Did they just let him ride as a charity? "Well, it's only natural to pay for a service, no?"

He just shrugged. "It's alright. Keep the money, it's not gonna be much use anyways, with the state of the town. You may wanna give that to the proprietor though —" he nods to the building, "— Prosper Lost."

"Well, I shan't dare to think of leaving this taxi without giving something in return," Jacques insisted.

"How about a tip then?"

"A tip?" he frowns. "A tip what?"

"Anything really, s'long as its useful."

That got him thinking. He thought of giving them a tip of accepting money when they get it and leave this terrifying place, but decided against. He then looks up.

"Here's a tip, there's this book that..." he trails off, feeling a painful lump form in his throat. "That my associate enjoys. Champion of the World, heard of it?"

~

Ellington feels the bitter sweetness on her tongue. The air was damp and cold after the shower, having ceased into droplets. Everything reminded her the cool greens and blues of a watercolor painting. At the distance, the light of the morning sun peaks through. She's glad she's getting some pieces of her back, but some of the damage will be permanent, and some things are just lost forever. Seeing the Association and strangers and natives to Killdeer fields all work together to set things right was amazing, but also drove home on the tragedy of Armstrong Feint, whose pursuit of vengeance blinded him, destroyed himself and set back hopes of recovery for years. The pain he inflicted was an unnecessary cruelty, that if he had bothered to spare, even the tinniest bit of mercy and offered his help, he would've witnessed the return of the sea and the recovery of the environment, and they could've been together.

But he had made a decision. All of their parents did — the Mallahans, the Hixes, the Knights, the Bellerophons, the Losts. What's done is done.

She remembers a line that her father read her once, many years ago. It was the book where Snicket claimed a wizard was not so very helpful, and that her father loved because of its elaborate descriptions of trees. Many elaborate description of trees.

"'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo." Ellington murmurs to herself.

"'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'"

She stares at the sky.

~

But there was a knock at the door

They both froze. Moxie is still on the phone — with who, Kellar didn't hear.

It could be anyone, Kellar thought, perhaps some coworkers who forgot their stuff, or has the intention to work overtime. It may even be some neighbor, asking for help or providing assistance. It could even be a fellow Associate. There's no reason really, to think there could be enemies on the other side.

But he walked anyway. His breathing far too loud and uneven, yet his pace cautious and fearful. He calls out, "Who's there?"

No answer.

"I'm warning you," he says slowly, attempting to keep the tremble out of his voice, "that I'm armed."

Silence. It's a blatant lie of course, but no matter how he strained his ears, he still can't hear anyone walking away. They’re not fooled.

He motions to Moxie to get ready to run. A few seconds, he could buy that. Enough seconds to scramble whatever data they need and bolt like hell. Kellar doesn't see if she saw it.

The door is inches away from him now. His heart pounded in his chest. His hands carefully placed on the dark wood, and he looked into the peephole.

Kellar had barely moved his head in time just to dodge the blast shot that would've blown away bits of his brain, but had blown off half of his right ear instead.

He screamed, it hurt, hurt worse than anything he'd known and he's sure he's lost his hearing there, but he let the wound bleed and instead ducked and braced himself against the door to keep them from opening it. "Moxie run!"

~

"Look at him. Look. At. Him." Pip hissed, and Squeak looked at them with an air of innocence. "You think that's an angel?? A beacon of innocence?? Wrong. That's bastard incarnate. The single source of maliciousness on this earthly realm. Look. Look how evil he looks. He's a little prick."

~

"Frankly, I'd love to have a sibling," Cleo said.

Kellar looked at her as if she said something deranged and jabs a thumb towards Lizzie. "No, you don't. I love my sister, but you think she won't sell me off to the circus first chance she gets?" He shook his head. "Think again."

~

"Dibs."

"What the—" Moxie then scowled. "That was too fast."

Snicket just shrugged. "I have two older siblings, Moxie. The true nature of siblings... Is natural selection."

"Are you certain you should be using big boy words like that?" Ellington asked, bemused. "I'm fairly certain you can't even differentiate a crocodile and an alligator."

~

"If I may introduce you to my family," Jacques says.

He points to Kit emerging from his side. "— Parasite number one—".

And he points to Snicket as he emerges from the other. "— and Parasite number two."

~

"Alright, does anyone have any questions?" Jacques asks tiredly.

They all raise their hands.

"That isn’t sarcastic," he snaps.

They all lowered their hands, disappointed.

Jacques sighs. "Lizzie, you've got the stage."

~

"Just what time is it?" Ellington inquires, exhausted.

"Hang on," Kit smiled, and instead of whipping out a clock, she instead produces a clarinet. She took a deep breath, and blew. Before she could even make it to the second note, they look up at the ceiling— startled— suddenly hearing a very muffled but very clear yell from Jacques, Kit, are you seriously playing the clarinet at 2 IN THE DAMN MORNING.

They look down. Kit still has a devilish smile plastered.

"It's 2 am," she announces.

[purplesurveys]

1197

survey by ohsh1t2wksl8

Layers

Layer 1: The Basics

Name: Since there’ve been several people who’ve followed me recently anyway, HI I’m Robyn.

Age: 23.

Birthday: April 21st.

Gender: Female.

Zodiac Sign: Taurus.

Layer 2: Your Family

Do you have any brothers or sisters? Yes, I have one of each.

Do you have any pets? Yup, two dogs.

Do you still live with your parents? I do. I’m not in a rush.

Do you have any stepparents? Nope.

How many cousins do you have? 11 first cousins. Throwing my second cousins into the mix would dramatically increase the number and I don’t feel like counting rn.

Layer 3: Your Friends

Who is your best friend? Angela and Andi.

Who have you been friends with the longest? Angela and I have been friends for 16 years and it’s stronger as ever these days because of our mutual love for BTS hehe.

What do you like to do with your friends? It really depends! There’s no one thing I like doing most with any of them; as long as I’m with them I’d consider it time well spent.

Do you have more friends online or in real life? Real life. It’s hard to form friendships online once nearly everyone starts becoming younger than you.

What is a good way to make friends with others? One thing I learned is that you have to be okay to initiate, and that’s not really something I like doing all the time.

Layer 4: Your Home

Do you live in a home, apartment, duplex, trailer, etc? I live in a house.

How many rooms are there in your house? There are 4 bedrooms and 5 other kinds of rooms – that’s 2 bathrooms, the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

Is your home large or small? I’d say it’s medium-sized. It’s not small that I feel cramped or inadequate, but it’s also nowhere near a mansion. It’s very comfortable for a family of 5.

What is your favorite room in your house, and why? Rooftop. My family barely goes there (and what a shame they don’t), so it’s a nice place to go to when I want to be alone but can’t get out of the house. Not to mention that it’s open-air and windy there, so whenever I feel as if I’m getting cooked inside I can always depend on the rooftop.

Do you prefer having people over to your house, or would you rather go to theirs? I’d rather go to theirs. Our house is really deep into the village and is a challenge to get to, especially if you’re unfamiliar with the general area.

Layer 5: Can You

Can you fold your tongue into the taco shape? Yes, but that’s the furthest it can go. I can’t really bend or twist it into shapes more complex than that.

Can you touch your toes without bending your knees? Nah, I lost that ability years ago. I didn’t make the most out of my flexibility back when I still had it.

Can you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue? I never tried.

Can you hold up your end of a physical fight? I bet I can’t.

Can you do any yo-yo tricks? No, I was always terrible at the yo-yo.

Layer 6: Who

Who inspires you the most, and why? I don’t have any ~inspirations. I do like looking up to whoever my current obsession is – be it Rhett and Link, Paramore, BTS, etc. – to help me be happy and have something to smile at, but I try not to let any of them govern every single aspect of my life.

Who helps you maintain your sanity? My best friends. And these days, surprise surprise! – BTS.

Who do you go to most often for advice? Depends on the topic; I always run to either of my best friends. If I need a collective opinion, I go to my college friend group’s group chat.

Who knows you better than you know yourself? At one point it had been Gabie, but *shrug* Nowadays, the person who knows me best would probably be Andi.

Who is someone that you would die or put your life on the line for, no questions asked? Any of my friends.

Layer 7: Do you

Do you still eat sandwiches without the crusts? Nah - I’ve grown to be a fan of the crusts. I used to make my grandma slice them off as a kid or else I wouldn’t even think of touching the sandwich; then something changed as I got older and now I absolutely have to have the crust. At home, I even call dibs on the first and last pieces of bread (the ones that are all crust) whenever we get a new pack of sliced bread.

Do you typically finish your meal at a restaurant, or need to take a container home? I usually ask for it to be packed up for takeout.

Do you pull an Oreo apart in order to eat it? No, I just bite into it.

Do you read a lot of gossip magazines? As a kid/teenager. I’m over that now.

Do you make friends easily? I’m not the biggest social butterfly, but I’m also not super closed off. I’ll be happy to talk to anyone who approaches me.

Layer 8: How Many?

How many people live in your house with you? Four.

How many pets have you had in your lifetime? In my lifetime...I guess a good rough estimate would be somewhere around 10? I’ll never know exactly how many we’ve had since I never kept track of how many goldfish we kept.

How many tries does it take you to become successful at something? Depends. I never learned how to ride a bike even if I’ve pushed myself to practice ever since I was 5, but there are other things I’m able to pick up easily.

How many meals do you eat a day? One, dinner.

How many people can you honestly tolerate? This isn’t really an issue to me haha, I like being around people and my patience around them is usually long.

Layer 9: How

How do you typically get to school or work? I work from home at the moment and probably would for a little while longer; but if things were different, I would be driving myself.

How do you deal with a breakup? When I was going through mine, I was stupidly stubborn at first and refused any form of help. I deactivated all my social media and shut both my best friends out; it even got to a point where mutual friends were beginning to ask Andi where I’ve been as I’ve “disappeared off the face of the Earth” (an actual quote they relayed to me). I cried day in and day out, cried during my shifts, stayed holed up in my room; and I skipped hundreds of meals, sometimes not eating all day. It wasn’t a good place to be in.

But I knew I was on the right path to recovering the moment I reached out to friends again and acknowledged that I needed help. I started to help myself, too; I cut the person off slowly, and I started to look for new things to get into, new hobbies to invest in. I let my friends give me tough love and show me the reality of my situation, and I listened this time around. I don’t know what drove me to make a sudden change in my life but I’m really glad I came around to the decision, because I’m happier than ever these days.

How do you like to help others? All sorts of ways. I always want to make others’ lives a little easier.

How do you know when you’ve found “the one”? I don’t trust that instinct anymore.

How do you sleep in bed? On my side, clutching a pillow. No pillow to hug, no sleep.

Layer 10: What

What do you think happens when we die? That I just fall asleep for a very long time.

What do you do if there’s no toilet paper left on the roll and you’re already peeing? Turn around and hope there is at least a bidet in the stall.

What do you eat most often? Rice.

What toys did you enjoy most as a child? Anything with a lot of buttons or features to play around with, like detailed dollhouses.

What do you do if you witness someone being awful to someone else? Intervene, for the most part.

Layer 11: Where

Where is your favorite place to eat out? BGC has great ambience and restaurant choices, but it’s been a while since I’ve been there. I also still feel weird about the place since Gabie and I had dates there pretty often, sooooo I really ought to make new memories there with new people once I can.

Where is the place that has the best ice cream in your area? We don’t really have places known for ice cream...most people just buy pints or tubs of them at the grocery lol.

Where did you meet your current or last significant other? School.

Where can you be found at 7 PM. typically? Wrapping up work in my room.

Where can you find the best French fries? Potato Corner.

Layer 12: When

When did you find out the truth about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy? Never believed in the first two. Tooth Fairy I lost hope in when I placed a tooth under my pillow when I was around 6 or 7 and woke up to nothing.

When do you typically fall asleep? Early hours of the morning tbh. I’d sleep anywhere between 1-4 AM these days.

When was the last time that someone paid you a compliment? Kata and I often make sure to compliment one another for our hard work by the end of particularly grueling shifts.

When do you feel most comfortable? Friday nights when I’m sure I can finally close my work group chats for the next two days.

When did you last go to the bathroom? Around an hour or so ago.

Layer 13: Why

Why do you enjoy taking surveys so much? It’s a stress reliever that has never failed me, and it lets me answers quirky random questions no one would ever have to ask me.

Why do people gossip so much? For one, probably the thrill of knowing something that's meant to be a thing.

Why can’t humans fly? It wouldn’t have been a necessity, I’m guessing.

Why aren’t you doing something else right now? Because I just spent the last 24 hours streaming Butter on Spotify and YouTube to raise views and plays for the boys, and taking this survey is actually the first thing I’ve done all day after taking a quick nap this afternoon to recover from all the streaming I did hahaha.

Why is the sky blue? I don’t know.

Layer 14: If…

If you had a million dollars, what would you spend it on? Buy chocolate chips because I’m craving them rn; get all BTS merch in one go; give a chunk to my parents; keep the rest.

If you found out someone was cheating on you, would you ever take them back? I don’t really have consistency when it comes to this situation. I know I definitely would’ve been stupid enough to stay with Gab if she hypothetically cheated on me while we were still together; I’m not sure if I’d stay when it comes to another person entirely.

If you found a wallet with cash in the street, including identification, would you turn it in? Why or why not? Yeah, I’d look for the owner. I’m not that desperate for money, personally.

If you could have any food right now, what would you like?   SUSHI.

If you found out that the world was going to end tomorrow, how would you spend your last day? Go to the mall and get some much-needed air, then probably drop off some japchae and tteokbokki at Angela’s place.

Layer 15: Firsts

When did you lose your first tooth? I was in Prep and it actually fell out while I was in school. We were having storytime and I had to interrupt the session to tell my teacher it was starting to feel loose, so she got me some tissues to help me get it out.

Who was your first teacher that you ever had? Her name was Kathy. I don’t really have any substantial memories of her because I was 4 lmao, but I know she was nice.

When did you first learn how to ride a bike? ...Still learning...

When was the first time you had sex? Like a day or two after turning 18.

Did your first birthday have a theme to it? Not necessarily but my parents threw me a party at Jollibee, so it kinda had to be Jollibee-themed lol.

Layer 16: Lasts

Last person you texted: I don’t feel like checking because it was most definitely a work-related text and I don’t want to be reminded of work on a Sunday, but it was a media person. 

Last drink you sipped: The last of my coffee.

Last time you rode a bike: Like, March last year when the pandemic had still been fresh and I thought I could use all the free time to finally learn how to ride a bike. Absolute clownery.

Last time you swam in a pool: August 2019.

Last person you hugged: Not sure. Angela, I think.

Layer 17: Favorites

Favorite Color: I think pastel pink is still taking the lead for me.

Favorite Season: We don’t have the usual four seasons, but I do have a liking for winter. It just seems very cozy for me.

Favorite Shape: I don’t have one.

Favorite Letter: Mmmmm, don’t really have one of these either.

Favorite Number: 4 or 7.

Layer 18: This or That

Pepsi or Coke? I don’t drink softdrinks.

Movies or Television? Movies, but I haven’t really been watching much of either recently.

Phone or Tablet? Phone. Haven’t used a tablet in yearrrrrsssssss.

Fruits or Vegetables? Veggies. Hate fruits.

Animals or Humans? I think I like both an equal amount.

Layer 19: Which

Which Poke’mon is your favorite? Chikorita.

Which day of the week is your favorite? Friday, because of course.

Which birthday celebration was the most memorable for you? My 18th, even though out of all the friends I celebrated my birthday with I only have one of them left in my life. I know I was happy during that time so I wouldn’t invalidate that experience for myself.

Which holiday is your favorite? Christmas, only for the sheer amount of food I get to have.

Which shoe do you put on first? I always switch it up, I’m pretty sure. I don’t have a particular habit.

Layer 20: Love Life/Relationships

What is the name of your first love? Gabie.

How many times can you honestly say you’ve been in love? Once.

Have you ever been in a relationship before that was abusive in any way? After being able to take a step back and analyzing it deeper, yes.

Have you ever been engaged or married before? Nope.

Do you have any children? I don’t.

Layer 21: Jobs, Dreams, & Goals

What did you want to be when you grew up (as a little kid)? I couldn’t decide among being an astronaut, firefighter, or veterinarian.

What do you aspire to be now? What interests you? I realized I wanted to be in the field of media and public relations, and that’s where I am now. I like being able to use my writing skills for something I find fun and fulfilling, instead of rotting away in a newsroom writing news I’m usually too sensitive for.

What is the most recent goal you’ve achieved? I got regularized! :)

What is a goal you are still striving to reach? A salary increase would be nice, and then a promotion down the road would also be awesome.

Have you ever won any sort of awards before? If so, for what? Sure. I was consistently on the honor roll in college and graduated with Latin honors, if those count as awards.

Layer 22: Opinions & Beliefs

Pro-life or pro-choice? Pro-choice.

Were you raised with any sort of religious background? If so, then what? Yesss, I was and am raised in a Catholic household. Weirdly enough my parents have grown more laidback in the last few years and my mom no longer berates us for not doing the sign of the cross when we pray before eating (my siblings have taken after me and refuse to do it as well). No idea what sparked that change but I’m just glad I never have to do gestures like that one anymore.

Democrat, Republican, or Independent? We don’t have the same parties here.

For or against the death penalty? This is a very complicated web and for reasons largely relevant to my country and the issues we have, I am mostly against it.

Thoughts on assisted suicide? I am ok with it as long as there is consent involved. 

Layer 23: Currently/Today/Present

What day is it? It’s Sunday again, blegh.

What’s the weather like outside? Sunny.

What have you eaten? Just a Fudgee Bar so far but I’m having breakfast with my family in an hour or so.

Did you run any errands? Well it’s only 8:37 AM so not yet, but one or two might come up throughout the day.

What time is it? 8:38 now.

Layer 24: Yesterday

Did you have a work shift? No, I don’t work Saturdays.

Did you eat out anywhere? No :( I’ve wanted to for a while, though. Maybe I might today, actually – they’ve loosened up quarantine protocols so restaurants have opened up again. Let’s see if I’ll feel like driving today.

Was it snowing? It doesn’t snow here.

Who did you last say goodnight to? Cooper.

Did anything unusual happen? It rained and there was cold breeze during the evening.

Layer 25: Tomorrow

Do you have to go to school/class? No, but I do have to go to work.

Does this day have any sort of significance to you? May 24...I don’t think so. Nothing comes to mind.

What is a chore that needs to get done? My veeeeeeery long list of to-do tasks that I’m trying not to think about rn.

Will you hang out with friends? No chance of that happening.

What time will you be expected to be awake by? 9 AM.

Layer 26: Have You Ever

Performed a magic trick successfully? I don’t think so.

Sat or laid on a rooftop and looked at the stars? I’m at the rooftop all the time but I only occasionally lie down to look at the stars.

Walked around with your underwear on inside out or backwards all day without realizing it? Nope.

Touched a snake? Yep. I’ve had one wrapped around me before, too.

Been bitten by an animal? If so, what animal? Just by ants and mosquitoes.

Layer 27: School Life

Are preschool and kindergarten mandatory where you live? Not sure about mandatory but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of people who went straight to first grade as kids, either because of advanced intelligence or financial limitations.

Were you or anyone you knew homeschooled? I have one set of cousins who are all homeschooled; and I also used to have classmates who eventually transferred out of my school to be homeschooled instead.

Did you attend public or private school? Private.

Were you bullied in school, popular, or somewhere in-between? I was a loner for the most part, but after befriending the popular groups in high school I kind of got dragged into that scene as well.

What is the highest level of education that you completed? Undergraduate degree.

Layer 28: Your Appearance

Eye Color: Dark brown/black.

Hair Color: Black.

Height: 5′1″.

Weight: A little under 100 lbs.

Do you have freckles, moles, beauty marks, or birthmarks - and where? I have moles on my right arm, under my jaw, near my left knee, and under my left boob. I have a birthmark behind my left shoulder.

Layer 29: Electronics, Internet, & Social Media

How much time do you spend on the internet per day? Hahahah yeesh, way to put me on the spot. I wanna say anywhere between 16-18 hours? I’m online the second I wake up until the moment I turn in for bed.

Which social media platforms do you belong to? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr.

When’s the last time you replaced the batteries in your television remote? 4975493875495743 years ago.

Are you more likely to stream movies and shows on your laptop, or cast them to your television? Laptop.

Do you have an e-reader, or do you prefer actual books? I don’t read regularly anymore, but I’ve never liked reading from a screen. I prefer a physical book as much as possible.

Layer 30: Are You

Are you still in school? No. I’m not opposed to grad school either, but it has to be a REALLY REALLY REALLY fucking great opportunity for me to sink my teeth into it. We’re talking getting accepted to grad school in like Spain or NYU; otherwise I wouldn’t take it.

Are you a member of the LGBTQ+ community? Yes.

Are you looking forward to anything coming soon? Festa month!

Are you dreading anything coming soon? Work tomorrow.

Are you gullible or naive? I can be both.

Layer 31: Does

Does your workplace make you feel like you can never take a day off without feeling guilty about it? Not at all. I’m really grateful they take vacation leaves seriously; we even have a Mental Health Break Day scheduled two Fridays from now. Purely a company thing.

Does someone currently hold the key to your heart? Kim Taehyung... :/

Does anyone out there hate you? Idk and I couldn’t give less of a shit if anyone does.

Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? No.

Does crying make you feel less strong? Nope. It took me a while to realize it, but acknowledging feelings and processing them is actually one of the strongest things you can do for yourself. 

Layer 32: Would You

Do the Polar Bear Plunge? Idk what that is.

Ever try to walk across a room blindfolded? I’ve done it before, so sure.

Swim with sharks? As long as I’m surrounded with experts, yes.

Go into outer space, given the chance? In a heartbeat.

Go out in public, looking how you do right now? Nope.

Layer 33: Pets/Animals

Do you have any pets? If so, what type, and their names… Yesss. There’s Kimi who’s an aspin, and Cooper the beagle.

If not, what type of pet have you always wanted?

What is your favorite animal? Dogs and elephants :)

Do you think it is cruel to have circus animals? Yes, or having animals do tricks for show, in general. I always discourage my parents from booking tickets to animal theme parks when we plan vacations.

How often do you walk your dog, if you have one? How often do you scoop the litterbox, if you have a cat? Every week.

Layer 34: Food

What is your favorite breakfast item? Fried rice.

What is your favorite kind of dessert? Macarons and cheescake.

Do you eat all three meals everyday? Nah. I have one meal on weekdays, and two meals on some weekends.

What’s the longest you’ve gone without food? Around 24 hours.

What do you like to eat when you are feeling sick? Greasy things haha. If I’m feeling like death, might as well be having good food.

Layer 35: Past

Does your past ever come back to haunt you at times? Not really.

What is one of your favorite memories of the past? Spending my college years with the right people.

What is something that you used to do in the past, but no longer do? Harm myself.

If you could have a meal with someone from the past, who would it be, and what would you ask them? Audrey Hepburn, but I don’t really have a question for her. It would just be nice to get to spend a few minutes with her.

Which historical time period would you like to go back to and check out? Precolonial Philippines.

Layer 36: Future

Do you think you will ever get married one day? It’s definitely a lovely scenario to have but I’m really unsure about it at the moment just because there’s no one I have in mind and I have no plans to start dating around again soon.

Do you plan on ever getting a different job in the future, or are you happy with the one you’ve got? I’m happy with the one I have and I don’t see it changing any time soon.

What age do you plan to retire at? Or do you plan on working til you’re dead? Probably the latter haha.

What is something on your bucket list worth mentioning? Going to Wrestlemania.

If given the opportunity to see how your future plays out, would you take it, or no? Yes.

Layer 37: Hygiene

How often do you shower? Once daily. Twice if it’s stupidly hot during the day.

How often do you brush your teeth? Once or twice a day.

Do you actually iron any of your clothes? Mm, not really. But if I was planning on wear something that gets easily crumpled, I iron that in advance.

How often do you do laundry? I’m not in charge of laundry.

How long do you use a bath towel before switching it out? Around 1–2 weeks.

Layer 38: Clothing, Makeup, & Style

Do you wear nail polish? If so, how often do you paint your nails? Nah.

How would your describe your sense of style? I like sticking with trends as long as I feel comfortable in them.

Are there any popular trends that you do not find appealing? Just makeup in general.

Where do you typically buy your clothing from? Local small businesses or H&M. 

What sorts of accessories do you wear/use? I don’t really invest in them, but I wanna start buying more headbands, bucket hats, and earrings.

Layer 39: Hobbies

Do you still color, even as an adult? Occasionally.

Do you/would you like to crochet, knit, cross-stitch, etc? Yeaaah I do embroidery but I’ve stopped for a while since finding other interests and hobbies to dabble in. I have no plans to ditch it completely though; I’ll come back to it when the time is right.

What’s the last thing you crafted all by yourself? Not sure.

Do you use Pinterest at all? Nope.

What’s the last thing that you cooked or baked? Lol.

Layer 40: Dislikes

List some of your pet peeves here. Driving slowly on lanes intended for overtaking; taking too much of my food; being subtle about asking for favors.

What are some things that annoy you about yourself? Easily punishing myself for mistakes, no matter how small; I also find that putting others first before myself 100% of the time can sometimes end up being an inconvenience for myself.

Is there anyone out there who you actually hate? Who? Nope.

What is a feeling that you dislike? “I should have done/said this.” Not sure what feeling this falls under (maybe helplessness?), but having these thoughts irritate me to no end especially if I can’t do anything about the situation.

Do you get some ugly road rage while driving? Yep.

Layer 41: Random

Have you ever successfully pogo’ed on a pogo stick? Nah, I’ve never even seen one in real life. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been dying to try getting on one lol. 

Have you ever mastered the jump rope? I wouldn’t say I’m a master, but I can do the basic jumps and last a long time doing them.

Do you know what it feels like to be truly happy? I don’t know if I’ve determined this already; I have a lot of years ahead of me and lots of experiences I’ve yet to go through.

Is it winter in your part of the world right now? No.

What’s your favorite type of survey, and why? Random ones or ones with categories, like this one.

Layer 42: Music

What are some of your favorite genres of music? Alternative, folk indie, punk rock, R&B...and BTS.

What are some music genres that you can’t stand? Country, screamo, techno.

If you had a blank pair of concert tickets, who would you hope to be going to see? Any one of my holy trinity: Paramore, Beyoncé, or BTS.

Do you still listen to music on the radio from time to time? Not anymore, come to think of it. I’m completely unaware of the Top 40 space right now, and have been for a while.

iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, or YouTube? Spotify.

Layer 43: Books

What were some of your favorite books as a child? The Septimus Heap series and the Percy Jackson series.

What genre of books do you typically read most often? Memoirs.

What are some of your favorite books as an adult? I don’t read anymore.

What is a book that you were required to read for school that you actually enjoyed? Hands down, Without Seeing the Dawn. I remember fairly enjoying Charlotte’s Web and Number the Stars as well.

Do you read any newspapers or magazines anymore? No.

Layer 43: Around the World

Where’s the best place you’ve taken a vacation and/or day trip to? Jeju, South Korea; Bali, Indonesia; Palawan; Batanes; and Boracay.

Where is somewhere that you’d like to go someday, assuming you have the funds to do so? Seoul, South Korea.

Where do your family members originate from? Just Philippines.

What is your favorite type of ethnic cuisine? All Asian cuisines. Each of them is so unique and always has something new to discover.

What is something that is typically representative of your own culture? Jollibee? Hahaha.

Layer 44: Would you Rather…

Drink apple juice or grape juice? Apple.

Wear pants or shorts? Shorts, as much as possible.

Be taller or shorter? Taller.

Go to a zoo or an aquarium? Neither if possible.

Visit an art gallery or a museum? Museum.

Layer 45: Movies

Do you remember what the first movie was that you saw in theaters? Stuart Little 2 when I was 4.

What are some of your favorite movies you’ve seen? Two for the Road, Gone with the Wind, Roman Holiday, Revolutionary Road, Toy Story, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Room.

What genre of movie do you typically enjoy? Drama.

What is a movie you’ve seen that you weren’t expecting to like, but were pleasantly surprised? Requiem For A Dream, but maybe remove ‘pleasantly.’ Anomalisa is also a good answer for this.

How many movies do you own? Are they all DVD’s, or do you still have some VHS ones left? I just watch them on Netflix, haha.

Layer 46: Personality

Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? I’m really more of an ambivert than anything else. I can deal with alone time and more social days equally well.

Are you more easygoing and laid back, or anal? Again, I can be both depending on the situation.

Are you kind to everyone who shows that they deserve kindness? Yes.

Describe your sense of humor. I can laugh over anything from dad jokes to crackhead memes.

Do you tend to over-share? Not really. I tend to have a good sense of how much I should share depending on the person/group I’m with.

Layer 47: Celebrities

Which celebrity has given their child the most unique name, in your opinion? I mean, Elon Musk and Grimes have to be up there, right? The Kardashians have also given their kids unique names, but I actually am a fan of them all.

Are there any celebrities that you keep tabs on/read articles about often? Nah, I’m past that part of my life lol. As obsessed as I am with BTS and as unavoidable rumors about their personal life are, I literally don’t care and just want them to have happy private lives. That’s one of the reasons why I know I’m truly in my 20s now hahaha.

Who is/are your celebrity crush(es)? Kim Taehyung, Hayley Williams, Kristen Stewart.

Have you ever personally met someone famous before? If so, then who? A lot of local celebrities and personalities since it came with the nature of my course.

Who is a celebrity that you’re getting tired of hearing about all the time? Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift.

Layer 48: Emotions

When was the last time you cried? Earlier, but they were happy tears.

What are some things that you’re afraid of? Big change, injections, drowning, sharp objects.

What is something small that makes you happy? Cold weather.

Who is the last person that you were angry with, and about what? My mom wrongfully blaming me for something I had very little to do with. Both my siblings are very sensitive and are never scolded, so I usually take the heat even for things I’m barely involved in. Such is the life of the eldest daughter in an Asian household, lmao.

Are you typically a shy or outgoing person? I’m always shy at first, but end up being perky and outgoing once warmed up.

Layer 49: Digging Deeper

What is your favorite alcoholic beverage? Mixed drinks.

How old were you when you got drunk for the first time? 18.

Do you smoke? Very rarely. I don’t want to make it a habit.

Have you ever taken and sent naked pictures of yourself? I have.

Have you ever done any drugs other than marijuana? If so, which ones? No.

Layer 50: Games

What are some of your favorite video games? Mario Kart, Resident Evil, and Legend of Zelda are some of my favorite series.

Do you have any computer games that you play regularly? I don’t play computer games.

What was your favorite board game, growing up? Scrabble.

How about your favorite card game? I also don’t play card games.

How good are you at solving puzzles? (such as a Rubik’s cube, word puzzles, or putting together a jigsaw puzzle) I don’t like puzzles.

[loquaciousquark]

Cut for talk of COVID and irresponsible failure to social distance (my own). Also, some updates on what’s been going on here for the last month or so.

part one:

Very very long story that I am truncating as much as possible. As you all know, I am an optometrist and professor. When we shut down in March, our university made a huge, painful shift to remote learning and our student clinic ceased operations altogether. Neither students nor faculty saw patients from March 15 - the the middle of May. At the end of May, faculty began seeing patients directly in an extremely reduced schedule, and at the beginning of June, we began adding in very limited numbers of students in a rolling schedule that minimized exposure to all involved.

Three weeks ago, my dear friend Jasper contacted me and said that an old friend of hers, whom I will call Carol, was in dire straits after losing her job overseas. Carol has an extremely rocky history: a terrible car accident that left her legs and feet permanently damaged which directly led to a very bad divorce, significant student loan debt (just shy of six digits I think, compounded from the accident, since she used her student loans to pay her medical bills--for anyone reading this, do not EVER EVER EVER DO THIS--student loans are never touched by bankruptcy declarations and you will owe them until you die), and something of an inability to put down roots. She is an English teacher who has taught and traveled all over the world: Prague, Bahrain, Czech Republic, Los Angeles, Rio, etc.

When I first met her about ten years ago, she had come back to Alabama from Prague because a job had fallen through. She was completely broke and living out of two suitcases and a carry-on. She lived with us for three months for free, sleeping in Jasper’s bed because we had no other room for her, and eventually got a job in Boston and moved on. She lasted--I think--about two months in Boston before quitting and taking a job in the Middle East.

On top of her student loan debt, Carol also has significant IRS debt and is in debt to several of her friends. Over the last few years, she took several ill-advised positions overseas back to back without ever consulting a lawyer on her contracts, and did not realize until recently that one of her positions classified her as an independent contractor instead of an employee, so she owed US taxes on all her income for that period of time. Her most recent job in Prague she lost in February because she filed her visa (again, without a lawyer) incorrectly, and what should have been a brief three-week stay outside of the country became a six week stay on the couch of strangers in the Czech Republic while she waited for her visa reapplication to process. However, it was denied, and then COVID hit, and she returned to Alabama with only a portion of her possessions and tons of important paperwork left behind in her Prague apartment. She then unfortunately had two emergency surgeries on her stomach for an acute, unpredictable medical issue, and while she is well healing now, it also added on another forty thousand dollars of medical debt to what she already owed.

She stayed with her mother and sister while she was recovering from the emergency surgeries, but her family is emotionally abusive and very unkind to her, and after a few weeks she left their home and went to stay with Jasper. However, Jasper is also 8 months pregnant with her fourth child, and they both knew it was a temporary thing. Jasper knows that I have a large home with several spare bedrooms, and asked if I would be willing to host Carol for a period of time while she got back on her feet. I knew what I was agreeing to when I said yes, and Carol and I settled on a period of two months. She has now been here almost three weeks.

Frankly, I do not like Carol very much. We are unbelievably different people in every way--personality, temperament, proclivity to crying in front of other people, hobbies, interests, religion, all of it. She is a very nice person, and I think she truly does mean well. But she is the most emotionally needy and energy-sapping person I have ever met, and I cannot tolerate her company in more than small chunks. It is not possible to hold a conversation with her about any subject tangentially related to her difficulties; if I try to sympathize with her loans by mentioning my own, she shuts me down by saying at least I will have the chance to ever pay them back. If I just try to listen without commentary, she’ll wrap herself up in her own stories and talk for hours without ever needing more than “mm”s and “hm”s and my undivided attention the entire time.

She will often work herself up into sobbing tears over her situation(s), and she always informs me immediately of any new development in any of her numerous trials: which are usually negative, considering the situation, and usually resulting in more tears. She has cried on me probably more than a dozen times since she moved in, and she wields “I love you” like a weapon, more to hear the validation of the response than to truly express the sentiment. She constantly asks for advice on her situation but does not listen to any of it--seems more to just want to relive each tragic detail of her life over and over again with an audience, wondering why she’s continually “screwed over in her life.” (Really, really poor financial decisions and constantly trusting her own “intuition” over getting competent legal advice before signing contracts, are I think the biggest contributors.) She has told me so many private details about her personal views, relationships with her ex-husband and mother and sister, her financial choices, and her extensive travel and job history over the last few years that I probably know her history better than my own at this point.

I think she thinks by sharing so much that she is justifying to me her need to stay with me. What is actually happening is that I am forced to help shoulder this enormous emotional load that compounds my own mental health problems I’ve been having since all this started. I have told her more than once that she does not need to justify herself to me and that my home is open to her for two months, no strings attached. I believe she is making all the steps she needs to and do not need reports on her daily activities to “pay” for her lodging or electricity or internet or whatever. This has changed the behavior a little for the better but not stopped it.

There are moments that are not bad. As I have mentioned, she does mean well and want well for most people. She likes Hamlet and loves Jasper, who is extremely important to me. But she is extremely difficult to be around in so many other ways, and the way she constantly exclaims over how we basically think alike on all things (absolutely untrue) makes me think she either will not or cannot read my reluctance to engage on any of these topics.

(An example: I was watching footage of the SpaceX launch and despite my feelings on Elon Musk, really excited about the implications for space travel. She came in, and after misunderstanding for some time that I was not watching Space Force with Steve Carell, decided that the SpaceX program was morally bankrupt, obviously borne of shady backroom government deals, and everyone involved should have used the money to solve world hunger instead. For the record, she had not heard of the shuttle launch, SpaceX, or Elon Musk at all before the seeing the footage.)

(She also until last week had not heard of Playstation, Xbox, streaming as a concept, or any game more modern than the original Mario. Trying to order a grocery delivery online was an excruciating torment for her [took her over four days to get through selecting the items, selecting allowable replacements, and actually paying] and I will not ask her to do it again. She frequently makes comments about video games being a waste of time, and when she sees children playing outside, comments on how glad she is they are not inside playing video games. She doesn’t seem to realize her comments are a direct commentary on me; I think she genuinely does not understand that those games are what I am playing most of my free time.)

Right now, everything seems to hinge on her passing some teacher recertification tests next week and the week after. She spent $150 to give herself less than a week to study from scratch for a test she described as the hardest she’d ever taken. There were several other dates later in the summer she could have chosen, and her deadline is December, but she picked the soonest option for reasons I can’t fathom. She is also in the process of trying to get a car--right now I’m driving her everywhere--and she was ready to hand over $3800 yesterday for a ten-year-old Hyundai with a check-engine light on without even thinking of getting any kind of inspection. She is far more concerned with the color and “energy” of the car than its function, and would not have even checked the headlights and blinkers if I hadn’t prompted it.

She will be here another five weeks or so. We move around each other now better than we did before, and I hope it will continue to improve. But it’s a lot like a rock grinding a groove in the streambed from the repetitive friction, and it’s not the struggle I wanted to be having right now.

part two:

As I mentioned above, Jasper is having her fourth child in a month or so. One of her friends, someone I don’t know, contacted me and said she wanted to do a drive-by “baby sprinkle,” where no one gets out of their cars. You drop off the gifts, talk to the recipient a few minutes from the car window, and move on. I told her that I work in health care and am exposed to patients, so that sounded good to me.

The shower was this morning. Carol and I got up and drove the thirty minutes to Jasper’s house. There were four other families in cars right around the corner, and the “hostess” gave us all balloons to tie on our side mirrors. She told us we would drive around the corner, drop off the gifts, and loop around. Jasper’s husband would arrange for her to be in the front yard at the right time.

Cute enough. We go around the corner with little honks and Jasper sees us and starts crying, and it’s all wonderful and emotional and a fabulous surprise and I’m genuinely excited about it. And then people start parking and getting out of their cars, and Carol and I start looking at each other. They’re full families, too--three of the other moms brought all their kids, and soon enough they’re playing with Jasper’s three boys in the front yard and coming up asking to pet Hamlet through the car window. No one was wearing masks.

And what’s worse, when they all started looking at us expectantly through the car window, we didn’t know what to do. They were handing Jasper her gifts and obviously settling in for a good long chat; the women were hugging, talking about how they are “so over this COVID stuff, please come visit soon,” and Hamlet of course recognizes his original owners in Jasper and her husband so he’s freaking out, and after a few moments, we decided to just get out of the car.

It was the first time I really felt the social pressure to participate in an event I wasn’t comfortable with. I have no issue maintaining my social distance and my mask and my handwashing at work because that is where I have the position of authority, and I have the responsibility to model it for the students and patients--but here, I was a guest at someone else’s house at someone else’s event, and I really, really felt how they might perceive me as rude. While I didn’t know the other women, my relationship with Jasper is extremely important to me, and I didn’t want to make this special event for her difficult in any way.

So we got out of the car and joined the group. I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, especially since I had Hamlet on the leash and there were a half-dozen small children around, but at least twice I looked up and there was someone right at my elbow, and we made small talk for five minutes or so before either she drifted back to the group or I moved Hamlet into the shade away from the rest.

Cars drove by and slowed down more than once to look at us. Jasper’s husband made a comment about rolling his eyes if he saw their family on Facebook that evening. The women planned play dates, all standing very close together, and Jasper opened her gifts (that part was excellent). All in all we were probably there about twenty minutes. 

I should mention that on the drive there, we passed a public park that has a very pretty waterfall right next to the road, and there were probably a dozen families out playing. There was a festival/outdoor market right outside the the park that had a sign up about social distancing, but the fifty or so people we saw shopping there were not adhering in any meaningful way. No one wore a mask.

And what annoys the bejeezus out of me is that I didn’t either. I didn’t even think about it until after we finally got back in the car to drive away. This is the first social event I’ve gone to since the first week of March, and while I wear masks for eight+ hours every day I go in to work, it didn’t occur to me even a single time to put on even my little cloth one that I keep in the car until we were driving away afterwards. I was so flummoxed by every little thing happening differently than I expected--people getting out of cars, how surprised I was by my own susceptibility to not rocking the boat, how normal everyone else made it to stand so close they could bump elbows so that Carol and I became almost excluded from the circle--that it never once crossed my mind. I know masks are more for the protection of those around you, not to keep you from catching what other people are carrying, but I could have set an example. I could have been the health professional I should have been in the moment.

I’m just so disappointed in myself. Disappointed in my own carelessness, irritated that I didn’t say anything, continually frustrated in a deep, gut-wrenching way by the whole situation that requires this in the first place. Bewildered that so many people are “back to normal” while this thing is still spreading, and in brutal honesty wishing I could be like them and just give up the fight myself. I’m not even mad at them. I WANT TO BE THEM. Why am I continually bothering to care and sanitize and mask and stay at home when no one else is? Literally no one would judge me in this state for it more than I’m already being judged (in most cases impersonally, though I felt the potential for it today in specific) for still watching the recommended guidelines.

I am really, really sick of this. I am so sick of feeling alone in this (of being alone in this, and Carol doesn’t count). Hearing other people saying “there there, you’re doing the right thing” honestly makes it even worse. I want people to stop patronizingly telling me to do things I already know are the right thing to do. I want other people as mad as I am that I can’t do the things I want to and need to do instead of being endlessly patient and noble about all the lives they’re saving by staying home. I’m top-of-my-head-blowing-off furious that so many people are shrugging and saying “well this is just the way it will be forever and alas, so it goes” and acting like those of us who did the right thing and cancelled our plans and our trips and our visits to dear friends but who are mad about having to do it are overreacting. I’m so fucking mad about it. I’ve stayed home for two months and I’ve isolated and I’ve quarantined and my hands are cracking from the constant sanitizer/washing at work and except for today I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do for this, and I don’t want to do it. And seeing people be so heroically virtuous and longsuffering on Facebook feels as alien and upsetting to me as the people who go to the beaches with a hundred of their closest friends.

That’s probably unfair in myriad ways. I’m really too angry, including at myelf, to soften it right now.

I want a vaccine and I want to be back in my classroom teaching to fifty faces instead of a screen in my living room, and I’m honestly freaking sick of waiting at home for them to figure this out. And watching everyone else move on with their lives back to the normal I would kill to have is just one more crack in the dike.