#this photo is for the children we will one day put in this van
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@taylortut has made an Adult Purchase (TM)
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let you break my heart again
pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader
genre: angst, fluff (if u squint really closely), bsf to more than friends to strangers, school au, right person, wrong time (sort of?), miscommunication (-ish?)
summary: in which you and taehyun are childhood friends, but as you grow older, some things make you think that you're more than friends. yet, the universe and fate love to play cruel games on you.
word count: 2.8k
a/n: this is my first time writing on tumblr and i did this instead of studying for my legal test (°ー°〃) this whole piece imo is a hot mess, but it was inspired by real life so this is in a way, a sort of speical thing to write. to the person that made me feel this way, thank u for giving me inspo for this. and also thank u to my faithful quality checker @yeonjunsfox, dude you had to read through this thing like sm times (｡ŏ_ŏ)
i. prologue
she could remember it clearly. it was a sticky summer day. it would have been perfect, blue sky for miles and fluffy clouds nowhere to be seen, if not for the fact that the sun was baking down onto the earth and causing sweat to come pouring down her back, yet this was not enough to deter her from hosting a teddy bear picnic in her front yard, plastic cups clinking against the pink and white plastic plates that came with it. but, as a five-year-old child, her attention span was short, playing with the teddies for an hour was already a feat in itself, yn wanted more. she wanted adventure.
just as she thought that, she caught sight of a white moving van rolling up to the newly-purchased house beside her house. in her childish excitement, she quickly stood up, almost tripping over herself in excitement, before she politely dusted her hands on her little yellow sundress, peeking on her tiptoes to see over the fence. to her surprise, she came eye to eye with a smiling little boy, round boba eyes bright with wonder and anticipation.
“hi! i’m taehyun! i’m…” the little boy paused, before he pulled out his hands and started counting. “i’m five!” taehyun held up five fingers in delight. ecstatic that she had someone else to play with, yn and taehyun became fast friends.
ii. when we were kids
throughout their younger school years, they had always been in the same class and their friendship grew stronger, until they were each other’s best friends. now, they had just begun their first year of middle school. with the process of growing up, their dynamic also changed. maybe it came with the arrival of adolescence, but their relationship, something, was different and yn couldn’t put her finger on it.
sure, as children they would hold hands, especially when yn was nervous. often, taehyun would tease her about how she was a ‘scaredy-cat’, but would secretly love the way that she would shy away, into his back. he often boasted about how he was her knight in shining armour and she was his princess. as children, when they were leaving a play date, one or the other would often give a cute little kiss on the other’s squishy cheek to bid them fair well. yn could remember so clearly, the cooing noises their mothers would make, seeing that interaction. in fact, they loved it so much that both mothers had matching framed photos on their living room mantelpiece of a secret photo they snuck.
but now, it was different. there were more fleeting touches, possessive holds, namely from a devilishly handsome teenage taehyun. sometimes, he would sneak up from behind her, while she was grabbing things from her locker, and his arms would circle her waist, before he lifted her into the air, with her legs kicking. other times, he would be more sensible, wrapping his arms around her from behind before leaving his quote-on-quote “stupid, heavy head” on her shoulder. what taehyun didn’t know was how hard yn would try to suppress her smile when his hair tickled her neck.
most of the time though, yn could curse his stupid height. now that he was taller than her, he would often rub it in by petting her head, before using those stupidly long legs to run away from her. goddamn it, why did god give him such spidery long legs! doesn’t he know how tiring it is to run after him every day just to get her revenge?
being the school heartthrob’s best friend was hard, many times a day would yn be stopped in the hallways by girls and guys alike, asking her if she could pass this on to taehyun, pass that message on to him, or answer such questions about taehyun’s hobbies. more often than not, she would diligently pass the message on to taehyun, not without a tone of teasing mockery, on their walks home together. those were the best times, when the setting sun was the only witness to their banter, as they zig-zagged across the path leading to their homes, playful shoving accompanied by sarcastic jokes and digs, a secret language created by the two of them.
iii. still you take up all my mind
the second year of middle school was no different. taehyun and yn were still attached to the hip, they were barely anywhere without each other, supporting each other both in public and private. they were each other’s comfort.
yn could remember as clearly as yesterday, when they were both in some stupid lecture, where the lecturer had jokingly said that if they got bored, they could sleep through it. excited at this rare opportunity to sleep through a WHOLE lecture, taehyun immediately turned to yn. he knew that in the past week, she hadn’t been sleeping well. who would, if they had 5 assignments to hand in, back to back in the past 3 days?
he wordlessly offered her his shoulder to lean on and without missing a beat, yn immediately took the offer, resting her head on his shoulder. what surprised her though, was the added weight she felt when taehyun leaned his head and rested it on top of hers. this feeling was foreign, but it made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside and so, they slept peacefully through the whole lecture, heads resting together, hands almost touching on the shared armrest.
iv. im just trying to understand
she doesn’t remember when it started happening, but slowly, their fleeting touches and linked pinkies during their walks together began to make her feel something more. it ignited a flame and sparks of electricity when their skin made contact. those warm, comforting back hugs made her heart do somersaults and butterflies spawn in her stomach, tickling her insides with their fluttering wings.
she didn’t take notice of it, until a friend of hers mentioned in passing, “hey, have you ever wondered if taehyun liked you? he’s always attached to you, almost acting like a boyfriend.” initially, yn dismissed her friend’s claims with a nonchalant shake of her head and a laugh, thinking that the notion was hilarious and she was so funny for mentioning something like this.
that afternoon, while taehyun and yn were walking home, taehyun subconsciously reached out his hand, linking his pinkie with hers. this sudden contact sent a sparkle of shock up yn’s arm and her heart jumped in her chest. hell, she was so surprised she almost jumped off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic. that was when her friend’s words crept back into her mind again.
‘does taehyun like me? or are we just friends?’
she thought long and hard. did other people’s best friends bring them their favourite snack when they felt down? did their best friend try their hardest at rigged arcade games to win them the plushie they had wanted? did their best friend always leave the sweetest notes in their locker before exam season? did other people also call their best friends until late at night, talking about everything and nothing at the same time? or was that what a boyfriend did?
those ideas wormed their way into her brain, warmth blooming across her cheeks. it spread like a virus, before that was all she could think about the whole walk home.
when she got home, she flopped onto her bed, burying her face into the nearest plushie and, with a silent apology for the abuse her plush was about to suffer, she let out a muffled scream.
this was too hard. romance was too hard, how did the people in the books she read and in her school manage? did they also face the same predicament she was in? did they also have a more than 10-year friendship on the line like her?
sighing, yn stood back up, smoothing out her hair, her mind set on getting her homework for the day done, just so she could keep her brain occupied with useless information that she most likely wouldn’t need later in life, rather than the handsome, lovable, sarcastic boy who was her best friend and lived next door to her.
she should’ve known her efforts would’ve been futile. during class, her eyes would wander to stare at the sculpture of art that was taehyun’s face, sitting next to her. her hands drew restless doodles and her thoughts were plagued with the possibility that maybe, just maybe this boy, her best friend, would like her.
these thoughts haunted her day and night, resurfacing at the times she least expected. they sprung up in her mind every time she felt his arms wrap around her waist. the contact that used to bring her so much comfort and warmth now only brought about unwanted thoughts of doubt and confusion, causing her to dread the familiar weight of those arms and attempts were made to worm her way out of the long limbs that entrapped her.
taehyun first noticed how strange his best friend was acting when she almost threw herself onto the road from the mere contact of their pinkies touching. initially, he brushed it off as his overreaction, after all, they had done this often enough that she should’ve been used to it. but as time went on, he began to doubt what he called, his ‘ynnie instincts’. things just weren’t right, somehow everything he did warranted a very strange and out-of-sorts reaction from his most beloved best friend.
did he do something wrong? was he making her uncomfortable?
these thoughts plagued his mind, day and night, while he was doing homework, eating dinner, anything. his thoughts always drifted to her. her face, her favourite food, her comfort characters, everything they’d done together, he had everything memorised. so what had he done to make her react in such a way towards him? he thought, he pondered, he wondered, but nothing clear came to mind.
v. what i am to you
the warm summer days came and went, so too did the autumn days, and then the winter days before spring finally arrived. along with the changing of the seasons, taehyun and yn’s relationship also changed.
it was like a huge chasm had opened up between them. the pair, who once spoke about everything together, now barely talked to each other. after the break, yn had had the time to think things through and she finally found some answers for herself. yes, she did like her best friend. but did he feel the same way? that question, she left unanswered. as for taehyun, he was still in the dark about what rendered such actions from his closest friend.
in an attempt to restore their friendship, yn would seek out taehyun after classes ended, in hopes that they could rekindle their friendship, yet every time she looked for him in the corridors, he was with his new friends that he had made. frankly, they were intimidating, especially the one kid with dimples, who was super tall.
so, as any intimidated person would do, she avoided their group at all costs, but after school, she would often text taehyun or share some funny videos she saw online. however, as time went on, the replies she got were more distant, and disinterested. sometimes, she dared let herself hope, sending over a cheesy little pickup line, hoping he would take the hint and make the first move, or at least drop a hint.
one time, she took a plunge into the deep end, sending a maths pickup line. after thinking about it for a while, she followed the video with ‘hahaha jk (unless?)’. in the end, she was once again left disappointed, with his stupid, stupid, logical reply of how ‘u’ and ‘i’ were used in maths, just for something else. for once, the conversation bounced back and forth between the two of them, until taehyun left her on read and never replied.
he was conflicted. did she like him the same way he liked her? those videos that she would send and the follow-up message of how they reminded her of him suggested one possibility, yet her responses when she noticed he was within a 50-meter radius of him suggested otherwise.
god, girls were confusing.
so of course, taehyun did something that, thinking back, was so stupid. he messaged one of the girls who had yn pass on her phone number to him.
they began talking more often, but every time taehyun saw her name flash across his screen, he didn’t feel that familiar spark of anticipation, of excitement. he felt nothing. yet every time his phone vibrated with a new notification from her, his ynnie, he felt fireworks explode in his heart. at the same time, he tried to stamp out these feelings.
“she doesn’t feel the same way” echoed like a mantra in his head. maybe if he told himself that enough times, he would believe it.
maybe talking to another girl wasn’t the best idea, or at least, telling your loud-mouth friends wasn’t the best idea. not even 2 periods had passed since taehyun had told his friend, beomgyu that he was talking to another girl, that at least half the year level knew about this new girl.
yn was only walking past a group of friends huddled together when she caught wind of what they were talking about.
“have you heard? taehyun’s talking to another girl!” one girl stage-whispered. there was a collective gasp. “no way! i thought him and yn were a thing?” another girl gossiped. “haven’t you seen the way taehyun and yn would act? i would’ve thought they were practically in love with each other.” a guy countered. “no way taehyun is talking with a different girl right?”
vi. if only you knew
in a final attempt to save their failing friendship, yn sent taehyun a long message after she got back from school that day. she poured her heart and soul into her message, deleting things and editing it over and over again in her notes app, until she was finally happy with her message. she included how she hoped their friendship could continue, she enjoyed all the moments they shared. maybe they could talk more? the message also eluded to something more, courtesy of her friend, who cheered her on over text to say that.
taking a deep breath, she sent it.
like a woman possessed, yn checked her phone every couple of minutes. while she was doing homework. right after she finished dinner. she flipped her phone after every episode of the kdrama she was watching finished. yet to her dismay, he hadn’t even read her message.
late that night, while she was preparing to head to bed, her phone vibrated, from on her bedside table. her ears pricked up at the sound of the familiar vibration, her heart soaring in her chest when she saw the contact name.
‘tyunnie sent one new message!’
clicking open the message, she felt her heart plummet.
two sentences. it only took two sentences to completely shatter her heart.
‘hey, i saw your message, i hope we can continue being friends too, but as you’ve probably heard, im currently talking to another girl. i hope you understand.”
vii. pretend that we're more than friends
no matter how much effort she put into maintaining their friendship, taehyun’s delayed replies for days and weeks exhausted her. she told herself, it was because of this new girl. she wasn’t envious of her. all she wanted was the best for him and maybe, she wasn’t enough.
after staring mindlessly at her black phone screen, waiting, hoping for a reply, she finally gave up. with a sigh, she turned over her phone, before resting her head on her desk. maybe she should stop getting her hopes up again.
maybe that’s all they’ll be, once best friends, now they were…whatever they were now.
despite all that, she hoped and dreamed that one day, someday, she’ll stop falling in love with her best friend. maybe one day, he would find the one for himself, but until then, she would allow herself to have a bit of hope maybe, pretending in her mind that they were still friends or maybe more than friends, the blurred line between friends and something more.
maybe still, he would be the person she sought out when she entered a classroom or was lost in the crowded hallway, even if all she would ever see was the back of his head. that was enough for her. when the time comes that he finds the one for him, she would happily let him break her heart once again.
in the end, taehyun and the girl had split up. the girl realised her true feelings, while taehyun finally came to terms with his love for his best friend. little did she know that every time she turned away, his longing eyes would search for her familiar silhouette in the crowd, hoping she would turn around and catch his eye.
∧,,,∧
( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024
/ づ ♡
#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#txt x reader#txt x you#txt x y/n#txt fanfic#taehyun x reader#taehyun fluff#soobin#kpop scenarios#tomorrow x together imagines#txt drabbles#kpop x reader#txt#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt angst#txt fluff#taehyun angst#taehyun oneshot#taehyun scenarios#taehyun drabble#taehyun imagines#kang taehyun
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Trick & Treating
Footballer Imaginess Does Halloween
Taking the children trick and treating
Virgil Van Dijk
Word Count: 481
Virgil had a day off and was finally able to head to the trick and treating with the children, you were just so excited as the children had wanted to do it for ages with him.
He was finally able to do it as Liverpool were playing at home in Europe so was able to take them which was there actual dream and every year had pleaded with him.
You helped the children getting changed into their costumes before Virgil came home from some meetings.
Your eldest daughter was going as her own version of Barbie, she was obsessed with watching the cartoon version.
Your youngest daughter wanted to go as superman, she just loved everything superman and couldn't wait to dress up in it.
"Don't you look adorable, let me take some photos of you" you smiled as they both posed for some photos as Virgil walked in, dropping his bag.
"Aww don't you two look so stinking cute. There are so many children out already when I drove in, hopefully these houses have enough sweeties for you both" Virgil smirked as you laughed.
"Right we better go, see you in a bit darling" he kissed your lips as you weren't going with him as you had some work to finish up and to make the girls some dinner.
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"Daddy it is so busy" Elsie smiled as she grabbed onto his hand as she made him skip down the road.
"Let's knock on this one" he smiled as they went forward as he could see the small pumpkins sitting outside their front door.
The girls were so excited as they jumped up and down on the spot as they both waited for the door to open.
"Happy Halloween" the girls shouted out loud as they were handed some sweets into their Halloween bags.
"Daddy look what we got" Summer smiled as she showed Virgil all the small chocolate bars she had got.
"Aww that is amazing, right let's go to the next house" he smiled as they were all excited and ran up the small step as Virgil watched with excited eyes as there was a few gasps coming from behind him as he turned on his heels.
He took some photos with the excited children as they were now surrounding him.
The girls were just so excited and they didn't want to go home, but they needed to have their dinner so despite them not wanting to go in.
"Show Mummy how much amazing sweets you have" they bundled through the door with their goodie bags filled with sweets.
"Oh wow, think you are sorted for a while" you laughed as you took the bags and put them on the kitchen counter.
"Go and wash your hands and we can sort them out later and have one before you go to bed" you smiled as they ran off quickly.
#31daysofhalloween#footballerimaginessdoeshalloween#virgil van dijk x reader#virgil van dijk imagine#football imagines#football imagine#football one shots#football one shot#futbol imagines#futbol imagine#football x reader
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In Praise of Sally Ann Howes
As I've made it one of the purposes of my blog to share photos and songs and general positivity about the wonderful English actress Sally Ann Howes, I thought I'd make a post to talk in much more detail about all the great things about her and why I adore her so much!
This classy English beauty possessed a highly expressive face and eyes, an astonishingly powerful soprano, a great sense of humor, and the world's most charming laugh. One thing I cannot stop saying about Sally Ann is that she did not and does not get nearly enough credit and recognition for her immense talent and prolific career, and it's precisely for that reason that I'm here to do my part in giving it to her!
This overlong rambling post is a combination of biographical information and my personal fawning over her performances... whatever I felt I most wanted to put out there in the world and what I'd like people less familiar with her to know.
Click on Keep Reading and I'll take you on a journey!
As she preferred to work on the stage and didn't really pursue a film career, the catalog of Sally Ann's work that can still be viewed today is unfortunately small - though you can find almost all of her early films on the internet if you look hard! In her early film days, mostly made before she was able to pursue her true passion of musical theatre, her extraordinary singing talents weren't utilized by the producers at all.
However, we were fortunately blessed with exactly one musical film role from her, and it's an iconic one: the aptly-named role of Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), the golden-haired, golden-hearted candy heiress who falls in love with and eventually marries Dick van Dyke's character Caractacus Potts after joining him and his children on a madcap adventure. She's a sweet, intelligent ingenue with hidden depths and one of my favorite sorts of character arcs - the uptight, lonely woman who becomes more and more warm and open as she discovers newfound freedom and joy in life and falls in love.
There is something about Sally Ann that just glows in every scene of Chitty, and it's not only that bright blonde hair! The way she widens her eyes sometimes, the way she raises her eyebrows, her gentle and soft presence in the happiest scenes, and the particular airy lilt she has to her speaking voice are all so distinctive and appealing, and I can't take my eyes off her. And her smile! When I say she glows it's barely even a metaphor, the woman just emits light.
(Funnily enough, I started to realize that many of the laudatory quotes I've found about her also refer to her in this way, like this quote from a 1965 TV Guide article, from playwright Sidney Kingsley: "She's luminous as an actress. I mean that literally. In Brigadoon she really lit up the stage.")
For me, I'm weak for any actress who can do the defrosted-ice-queen trope so incredibly well. Truly starts out as closed-off and prim, and nearly reverts to that state when she and Caractacus have a Big Misunderstanding near the end, but in the scenes where she's happy and carefree, the warmth just radiates off of her.
She also has the most adorable chemistry with Dick van Dyke in an annoyances-to-friends-to-lovers relationship that absolutely shaped my young brain. Whenever Sally Ann and Dick glance at each other, whether with irritation and frustration early in the film or with warmth and affection later on, their chemistry is obvious and natural, and there's so much expressed in each one of those glances. One has no difficulty believing that these characters are going to be very happily married.
(Here's a cute on-set interview where she talks about, among other things, how easily she and van Dyke clicked.)
While I acknowledge that the character of Caractacus Potts was absolutely originally planned to be an actual Englishman, Dick van Dyke played him with an American accent, and to me they will always be an adorable English-American couple. It's a whole part of the charm of this pairing to me!
Sally Ann also had a great relationship with child actors Adrian Hall and Heather Ripley who played Jeremy and Jemima Potts, and did her best to help make them more comfortable and happy during the many very long days on set. Having been a child film star herself, she knew a great deal about how difficult and alienating it could be. The genuine affection the three of them shared is obvious in their scenes together, especially in the extremely adorable "Truly Scrumptious" number, and it really makes the developing mother-child relationship between the characters so believable.
The beach scene, where so much of the relationship between Truly and Caractacus and the Potts children is developed, is incredibly cute and heartwarming, and a lot of that rides on Sally Ann's performance and how her previously prim-and-proper character shows herself to be warm and loving, once she (literally) lets her hair down. We've already seen how happy the Potts family is together; now we see how Truly fits in perfectly and makes them all even happier.
Look at her! Literally glowing!
(One thing I should mention: I think both the plot and the love story of CCBB are greatly improved if one just treats the "dream sequence" as real events, which was possibly the original intention anyway, so just note that is always the perspective I'm coming from here. It's the only way to make some things make sense and for the characters and their relationships to fully develop.)
"Lovely, Lonely Man" is Truly's big solo moment, and was probably the least comprehensible part of the movie to me as a kid (lol), but is now indisputably one of the very best parts to me as an adult. It's an exquisitely beautiful love song, especially the bridge, and I somehow love it more and more every time I rewatch it. Sally Ann's dreamy, graceful movements and the way the whole scene is shot make her look like a princess, and the slow build of the song is masterfully done. She has this distinctive crisp way of articulating her words while singing, especially the closing consonants like N and M, that I just love to listen to. The string section and the building countermelodies are so beautiful it makes me want to weep. Everyone involved in creating this scene and song deserved an award, I'm being so serious. While it's not the highest of soprano songs and doesn't fully show off Sally Ann's astonishing range, she shows an incredible amount of vocal control here through the many diminuendos and crescendos, and she's mesmerizing to watch and listen to. One of her "glowiest" scenes, for sure!
While I've seen people call this song irrelevant to the plot, I strongly disagree - the romance is part of the plot, of course, and while I didn't fully understand the meaning as a kid, this song establishes how much Truly's outlook on life and hopes for the future have already changed since meeting Caractacus, and how much happier she is with the poor Potts family than she's ever been in her life of luxury. Plus, now we know for certain that she's head over heels for Caractacus, but he doesn't know... increasing the dramatic irony of the pining and yearning to follow!
youtube
In the reprise of "Hushabye Mountain", which was sung in a much earlier scene by Dick van Dyke alone, Caractacus loses the will to continue the song because he's overwhelmed with emotion thinking of his children being held captive. Truly comes in to aid him with the final verse - another pivotal moment in the developing romance - and Sally Ann's singing here is nothing short of breathtaking.
And of course, I can't neglect to mention the "Doll on a Music Box" number, where Sally Ann, who was not a trained dancer and in fact considered herself to be "appalling" at it, performs an incredibly precise, incredibly impressive clockwork song-and-dance number while on a spinning turntable! She practiced it so well that she managed to successfully complete the shot in a single take, prompting the stage full of extras to burst into applause.
This is another important character moment for Truly, though it's disguised in a diegetic performance: though it's another thing that went over my head as a child who only got to see the movie once, the lyrics about being trapped up on a music box and longing to be freed by love pretty clearly symbolize how trapped the real Truly's high-society life makes her feel, and how she yearns to break free from class restrictions and live happily-ever-after with Caractacus, as it's only with him and his family that she really feels free.
Then there's that incredibly warm romantic look that Truly and Caractacus share at the end of the song when she silently acknowledges the love confession he's just made while singing in counterpoint with her, though they're still in a dangerous situation and can't give themselves away by appearing too human and breaking their disguises... sadly this vital moment is cut off on all the Youtube videos of the scene I can find, because none of the people who clipped it understand that that's the whole point of it all, apparently. But here's a gif!
The character of Truly doesn't exist at all in the original (quite different) book by James Bond author Ian Fleming - surprising, I know, given her name! - and, honestly, the fact that Truly and the romantic subplot of this movie exist are why it had such a strong impact on me as a child, and very much why I fell in love with it again as an adult. Even though the score is wonderful anyway and the story is charming and magical, I can confidently say that I would not have become as completely enchanted or had such a strong desire to revisit it again and again if there'd been no Truly and no love story. The fact that Sally Ann's performance makes Truly so loveable is, obviously, a pretty crucial factor there.
Sally Ann's delivery of "Well, Mr. Potts... now you'll have to marry me!" after Caractacus kisses Truly... that slide from prim mock-outrage to the playful, warm, you-can-hear-the-smile-in her-voice conclusion is flawless. Not even exaggerating when I say that this was the moment that made me into a hopeless romantic as a 9-year-old child. Sure, this wasn't the first movie I'd seen where two people fall in love and live happily ever after, but I distinctly remember that this was the first romance story that had me in a giggling, kicking-my-feet, "I ship it so hard" state of mind. And after revisiting it as an adult for the first time last year, I have confirmed that yes, child me already had great taste in fictional romances!
Oh, I could say so much about the difference in her body language between the two scenes where Caractacus carries Truly out of her car that's become stuck in a pond. The first time, Truly is affronted and extremely embarrassed by the situation, holding herself so stiffly and awkwardly to avoid an accidental embrace that she causes him to nearly lose his balance and drop her. The second time, when they're in love and they know it, she snuggles right up into his arms without hesitation and it's the cutest thing ever. Sally Ann was 5'6" but looks so tiny in that scene!
(And that kiss! Maybe I'm getting off-topic here in terms of strictly focusing on Sally Ann's contributions, because Dick van Dyke deserves tons of credit for making this kiss so good... but wow, the kiss. Several times I have called it "the Most Kiss they could have gotten away with in a children's movie." Again, giggling, kicking my feet etc.)
While Truly's costumes and hairstyling are rarely historically accurate (the film is set around 1910), the stylized nature of her fashion is iconic and memorable in itself. Sally Ann also completely pulls off playing a fresh-faced ingenue who is 12+ years younger than her actual age - and I do wonder if the aging-down of Sally Ann is at least part of the reason why Truly wears her hair loose throughout most of the movie! Either way, it works perfectly and I was shocked when I first learned how much older she was than her character. (If you watch her in The Admirable Crichton, where she is also in Edwardian costume and was closer to Truly's actual age, she really doesn't look all that much different. If anything, I think she looks even more glowingly beautiful in Chitty!)
Also, as for Truly wearing her hair down... it may just have been an intentionally anachronistic stylistic choice, but in-story, I think it actually contributes to her character by showing a willingness to flout convention and pursue whatever will make her happy instead of what's expected of her, which happens to be a key theme of her character arc.
Another thing that led me to adore Sally Ann as a person as I learned more about her over the last year: in the 1960s, she appeared as a panelist in quite a few episodes of the game show To Tell the Truth (as well as a few episodes of Password), and these can be found on Youtube. I really adore how her personality shines through - she's unfailingly bubbly, witty, self-deprecating, and a bit quirky. Just listening to her speak is a delight and she has one of the best laughs I've ever heard. Here is one of my favorite little moments that I clipped.
By all accounts, she was a delightful person to know and work with, witty and clever, very professional, and very serious about her craft. She also always maintained a great affection for and pride in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and her role as Truly, which is always a wonderful thing to know about an actor in a beloved role.
Another bonus: here is a super charming interview with her after a backstage disaster at What Makes Sammy Run? on Broadway.
She was also, along with Twiggy and Diahann Carroll (as Julia Baker), one of the first three celebrities to have her likeness made into a Barbie doll.
Two of her earlier films I recommend are the comedies Fools Rush In (1949) and The Admirable Crichton (1957), if you can find them (hint-hint, you can.) You may also be able to find the 1966 TV movie of her reprising her Tony-nominated role of Fiona in Brigadoon with Robert Goulet, and although I feel like the oddly close-up way the film was shot kinda does a disservice to the actors at times, it's still amazing to be able to see and hear her in a role she performed on Broadway.
Richard Rodgers once called Sally Ann "the greatest singer who ever sang on the American musical stage." Now, I don't quote this to claim this superlative as some kind of objective fact. If you know anything about me, I am very, very strongly opposed to pitting women against each other and all the Golden Age sopranos are absolute queens who deserve crowns, no matter how much mainstream success or present-day name-recognition they have/had. I just think it's phenomenal that she received such high praise from a man who worked with many of the best musical theatre singers who ever lived... and to think, many people today have never even heard her voice. Without her performance as Truly Scrumptious, it's possible almost nobody would in the future! I am so glad that Sally Ann's lasting legacy was ensured by such a beloved film role.
Sadly for us, many of the theatrical roles which she originated (and thus, for which cast albums featuring her exist) were in shows that either flopped quickly or at least did not enter the theatrical canon, so she never achieved the level of mainstream recognition she clearly deserves. But Sally Ann also played such legendary and challenging roles as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, Fiona MacLaren in Brigadoon (for which she received a Tony nomination), Maria Rainer von Trapp in The Sound of Music, Anna Leonowens in The King and I, and, much later, Desiree Armfeldt in A Little Night Music. She received great acclaim for all of these performances and, judging by what we know of her process on My Fair Lady, was excellent at making roles distinctly her own and never merely imitating another performer.
Even in her iconic original role of Truly Scrumptious, you don't get to hear the true full power of Sally Ann's extraordinary soprano. For that, I highly recommend listening to "Another Time, Another Place" from Kwamina (1961), and "Something to Live For" from What Makes Sammy Run? (1964). I'm always sad that we don't have any recordings of her in her "fiery" star turn as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, but you can at least hear her do a Cockney accent, be silly, and sing "With a Little Bit of Luck" with Bing Crosby here!
If it weren't for the enduring success of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, few people might have even heard of Sally Ann Howes today, and that would be a terrible loss. I cannot overstate that I am so grateful that we all know who she is because she played this role and we get to see her give this radiant performance of a character that's all her own. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think the fact that this was Sally Ann's only musical film role (and the ONLY role most people will ever see her in) makes it even more precious, and makes everything she brings to the character that much more distinctive and unique and special.
Both for all of the talent and charm she brings to the role itself, and everything else that I and many other fans have been able to learn of so much of her otherwise-obscure work because of it, the world is incredibly lucky to have the lovely Sally Ann Howes immortalized as our Truly Scrumptious, and I wouldn't have it any other way 💖
#*mic drop*#sally ann howes#chitty chitty bang bang#and that's why you should vote for... wait there's no poll involved? I may have gotten carried away ;)#ok so I doubt anyone will even pay attention to this post but if you are going to tag or comment on this BE KIND AND POSITIVE ABOUT HER#like this is obviously a labor of love on my part here... don't be weird or backhanded. I don't need to hear how you disagree or whatever#and no pitting women against each other on my posts I am so serious#this is a fan post! this is a stan post! this is a celebration! do not derail!#I feel like I need to sprinkle holy water on this post before I release it out into the world#oh Sally Ann we're really in it now#also parts of this are poorly written I know. it's literally just an infodump about my Special Interest English Lady what do you expect lol#the switches between formal tone and informal fangirling are intentional btw#this is what I'm using my degree for apparently#I know I mixed in a lot of character/story analysis here and maybe that's slightly off-topic from lauding her performance but hey#it's not like I'm getting graded on this. and I mean you can see these things in her character BECAUSE of her performance#take my hand. love her with me. life could be a dream#you know the lyric in Hamilton - 'I wrote my way out'? that's what this was for me. I wrote my way out of a mental health crisis with this#when I came up with this idea I was going to save it for her birthday but that is sooo far away. so I'll post now and reblog it then!#I'm shocked tumblr can even handle whatever I'm trying to do here#I wouldn't have put SO many photos except that I needed to use multiples so I could make them smaller!!#my original post#long post
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Treat Williams is being remembered. The Hair and Everwood actor died Monday at 71 after being involved in a motorcycle accident. Following news of his death, Williams' co-stars, collaborators and friends, including Kim Cattrall, John Travolta, Matt Bomer and Everwood's Gregory Smith, paid tribute to the late actor, whose career spanned more than four decades.
One of his later works was Hallmark Channel's Chesapeake Shores, where he played the patriarch of the family, Mick O'Brien, for six seasons from 2016 to 2022. His co-star, Barbara Niven, who portrayed his character's estranged wife and later love interest, Megan, spoke with ET's Deidre Behar and emotionally remembered her friend and the legacy he's leaving behind.
"It's really hard to even consider the fact that he's not here because he was just so larger than life. He just filled up the room, filled up the set," Niven said. "What a blessing to be able to have worked with him on Chesapeake for six years in that kind of atmosphere where we all became a family."
"My heart is just... He left his family so much, and they must be so bereft and heartbroken and that's mostly what I'm thinking about," she continued, referring to Williams' wife, Pam Van Sant, and children, Gill and Elinor, aka "Ellie." "Treat just lived a large life in every way. He savored it. He loved to eat, he loved good wine. He loved to break out into singing in the green room, and that's how we'll all remember him."
The actress recalled Williams' love of flying and being a pilot, calling it one of her "favorite things about him."
"He talked about it all the time and one of my favorite poems is called High Flight by John Gillespie Magee. And this is what I think Treat is doing right now because he always used to text me photos of himself looking out the window from his plane," Niven shared, before reading a passage from the poem: "Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings. Sunward, I've climbed... and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of. High in the sunlit silence, hovering there... Put out my hand and touched the face of God.' That's where I think Treat is right now."
Niven fondly remembered filming the series finale of Chesapeake Shores, which featured their characters getting remarried.
"The last scene of Chesapeake, the last day that we had six wonderful seasons, and I got to marry him the last day with all family around, the cast ... we were a family. And we were all in tears," she shared. "I have a photo of Treat at the fire pit with the family leading us all in a toast and that's what he's doing right now. What a joy, what an honor, what a legacy he's left behind! And he taught us all how to be better actors and how to live life and just get more out of it. Never to settle, just to live full out."
The 70-year-old actress reminisced about the times when Williams rented a house on Vancouver Island while filming Chesapeake Shores and holding movie nights of classic black-and-white films because "he loved old movies." He'd also host dinner parties, Niven recalled.
Hallmark Media
If there was a legacy Williams left behind, it's to always live life to the fullest.
"To not settle for less than wonderful in your life. If you have a dream, go after it," Niven said as she got visibly choked up. "He has done it all. I don't think there's anything he ever went halfway about and his family. He loved his family so much. He posted that he was out on his favorite [place] where they live, on the tractors smelling the grass and then three hours later, he was gone, I think his legacy is also to know that it can end at any time. So don't settle and make sure you tell the people you love them, that you love them way more than you think you should because they'll remember. And that's how we're going to remember Treat."
Niven was on set filming an upcoming Hallmark holiday movie when she learned of Williams' death. She recalled having a moment of silence and some who had worked with Williams on previous projects "spoke thoughts about Treat." "He was remembered and he will always be remembered," she said. "The Hallmark family lost a family member. We lost a patriarch and we all miss him. It was a privilege and an honor to work with this man."
She also praised Williams as "one of the best actors I ever worked with and his craft meant so much to him, and the stillness was everything. You sat in front of him and you just listened and you were there and that was his gift to me, and I think it's his legacy. Young actors need to study his work and they will. They will be better."
Williams died Monday at Albany Medical Center in New York after being airlifted in a helicopter from following a motorcycle collision in Vermont, according to Vermont State Police Department PIO Adam Silverman and Lt. Steve Coote, who held a virtual press conference Tuesday.
The fatal accident happened around 5 p.m. Monday on Route 30 by Long Trail Auto near the southwestern Vermont town of Dorset. The accident involved Williams' motorcycle and a 2008 Honda SUV. Investigators believe the driver of the car was turning left into a parking lot and didn’t see the motorcycle.
Barry McPherson, Williams’ agent of 15 years, told ET, “Treat was killed yesterday afternoon. His motorcycle was going straight and a SUV cut in front of him. I'm just devastated. He was the nicest guy. He was so talented. He was an actor's actor. Filmmakers loved him. He's been the heart of Hollywood since the late 1970s. He was really proud of his performance this year. He's been so happy with the work that I got him. He's had a balanced career."
"He was a wonderful guy, friend and actor and beloved by so many other actors,” McPherson said.
Hallmark Channel released a statement to ET on Monday after news of Williams' death: "We are heartbroken over the passing of Treat Williams, a beloved member of our Hallmark family and an immense talent who captured the hearts of millions. It was a privilege to have worked with Treat, who brought to life so many memorable characters over the years. We will remember him for the joy he brought to our screens, and the legacy he leaves behind. We extend our sincerest condolences to his family, friends and loved ones."
Williams' Chesapeake Shores co-stars, Meghan Ory, Emilie Ullerup and Andrew J. Francis, were among those paying tribute.
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The First
Summary: (The Lovely Bones x The Black Phone crossover) Susie Salmon was the first victim
Pairing: N/A
Word Count: 799
The only thing left behind from Susie Salmon’s abduction was the ugly hand-knitted wool hat she wore that day. He would take her favorite bracelet and string it up near the door that led to her prison. A soda and a plate of scrambled eggs were all she ate for the duration of her capture. Sleep was almost nonexistent as she feared of a visit as she slept. It frightened her of the possibilities to her end. Her last moments were spent in pain and agony. Her wounds were pouring red. It took a while for her killer, the Grabber as the papers have begun to refer to him, to scrub away all of her blood from the cold basement floor.
Her prison became the prison of others. Her killer figured out his type of young boys and she was just a guinea pig to see if his wildest dreams could become reality. Susie called each and every boy but none could hear her calls. Her killer’s killing spree was accelerating at a faster rate. She was kept the longest then it steadily declined from there. He preferred fighters over meek children like her. While she soothed his itch to kill, her terrified state was not much of interest. He’d leave the door to the basement door open and simply waited for them to gather their courage and walk up the stairs. He held a belt, a leather belt, and beat them into a bloody pulp. It didn’t matter if they became unconscious, he whipped them continuously until he deemed their punishment was sufficient enough. When he was done, he would drag them back into the horrid basement and prepare for his final strike.
Finney Blake was a boy she would often see walking home from school. They’d live in the same neighborhood but never spoke to one another. He was a pitcher for the baseball team and she ran around snapping photos of everything and nothing. She walked towards the black phone that still hung on the wall and waited. The sound of ringing echoed throughout the disrepaired walls and it was almost a miracle that he jumped to the sound of the phone.
He slowly placed the phone to his ear and asked, “Hello?” He’d seen previously that the phone did not work but he was hearing it ring right at this moment. It was working for such a bizarre reason. Static electricity, the Grabber explained away.
“I’m so stupid.” Susie mentions, “I’m so stupid. I never realized something was wrong until he was dragging me into his van.”
Finney’s face went white before asking, not from confusion but for confirmation, “Who are you?”
“I don’t remember but I remember you.” She said, “I remember seeing you and your sister walking ahead of me. Everyday.”
“Susie. You’re Susie Salmon.” He claimed, “You lived on the same street I did.”
“That’s it. My name is Salmon like the fish, first name Susie.” She paused for a moment, “I remember seeing you and your sister walking ahead of me.” Confusion reigned on his face, “You need to get out of here.”
With that, the line went dead. “Susie?” Finney put the phone back before exploring the basement he, and all the other kids before him, were kept. Susie was dead and presumably so were the others: Bruce, Billy, Griffin, Vance, and Robin. They were gone and he, too, believed he would suffer the same fate as they had. His back rested on the wall where the phone hung, he faced the door and tried to come up with an escape plan but to no avail. Vance, Bruce and Robin could’ve been able to break or get the window open but neither of the three succeeded. What makes him any different?
Hours have passed and he moved position. He waited for another call, for the phone to ring once again and he wouldn’t feel as alone as he does. The familiar sound of ringing echoed throughout the soundproof walls and he snapped out of his head. He rushed towards it like it was a lifeline. “Hello, Susie?”
“I always wanted to be a wildlife photographer. I stayed back at school for film club. We learned about the importance of light.” Finney didn’t know what to say. Nothing she was saying was helpful.
“What good does that do me?” He asked.
“Use one of your shoes to break the lights. Your eyes will be adjusted to the darkness. His eyes won't be. You might be able to render him unconscious with a planned attack.” She hung up the phone and proceeded to watch Finney answer the calls of the other ghosts. She could only hope he’ll be able to make it out of the basement alive and back to his sister.
Masterlist
#finney blake#bruce yamada#billy showalter#vance hopper#the black phone#susie salmon#the lovely bones#robin arellano#gwen blake#griffin stagg#the grabber#the black phone 2022#child abduction#the black phone & the lovely bones crossover#crossover#tbp fanfic#tbp finney#tbp bruce#billy tbp#tbp vance
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Lighthearted Goodbyes (pt.3)
Gamatoto says goodbye to one of his longest expedition helpers.
Elmo kept staring at the ground. He knew this was going to happen. He saw all his friends leave due to spacing issues. He never knew it would come this soon.
"It's how the cookie crumbles, buddy. You'll leave around dinner time. Please try to pack up soon."
Gamatoto left a sniffling Elmo to gather his belongings. Everyone felt terribly bad while Derp full on cried. Tiny Peggy tugged on his uniform shirt.
"Can't we do something for him, Mister Gamatoto?"
Gamatoto pondered. He can't just let his best intern go like that! Slowly, a plan started to form. His confidence returning bit by bit, he declared his grand plan. Everyone was going to throw Elmo a suprise goodbye party!
"Alrighty folks! We have tons of work to do! Lets get it rolling before lunch!"
"YES SIR!"
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Elmo finished tucking up his bedroll with his blankets. He sighed, looking through old photos with his fellow campers. Gamatoto playing god at a childrens birthday party, Derp joining a ritual in Jizo's Moving Castle, recruiting Peggy... it just won't be the same. He went to go put his stuff outside to prepare for dismissal.
Instead, Elmo was met with colorful streamers and a giant banner hung from two trees. "GOODBYE ELMO" was written by Rocky, the best writer at camp, in puffy yellow writing. Ladders and props were adorned over the camp, courtesy of Ototo's development group. Elmo was shocked.
Soon the glum from the morning was washed away by fun activities! Pin the tail on the Doge, Guess the Cat Unit, Hide and Seek, and a suprise visit from Showoff Cat! They ate yummy Cat Food sandwhiches with tuna spread. Elmo didn't want this day to end.
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Sadly, it did. Everyone lined up to give Elmo a souvenir. To remember the fun times.
Augustus gave Elmo a pretty crystal he found in some caves. It glows with green energy.
Rocky gave Elmo a drawing of the two playing with beetles. He wishes they would meet next summer.
Pete gave Elmo a collection of marbles with yellow swirls and blue twirls. Very mesmerising.
Yuta gave Elmo a carrot for vitamins. Elmo liked the taste of them when sautéed.
Sophie gave Elmo a handmade bracelet for their shortlived friendship. She thanks him for saving her.
Lily gave Elmo a pretty flower she found on a frog. The browning color resembles the bronze of his hat.
Noah gave Elmo a slingshot. Just in case he needed to hit something down.
Morty gave Elmo some sea sand for good luck. Came from the future, he says.
Peggy gave Elmo a kiss on the cheek to confess her love for him. She had a crush on him for quite a while.
Derp gave Elmo a picture frame that had a group photo of everyone. All his friends signed it with Gamatoto, Derp did a little squiggle instead.
Last but not least, Gamatoto gave him a notepad to document his own adventures. Elmo always wanted to be his own Gamatoto.
"When we meet again, you can tell me all about your journeys alright?"
"Got it. Thank you Gamatoto. Thank you everyone!"
Everyone lined up at Gamatoto's whistle. They took off their caps and bowed. Gamatoto saluted. Elmo saluted back.
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As Elmo loaded up his things into his van, he remembered when Gamatoto found him. Lost in some field, he could remember when his warm mentor's paw helped him up. Goodbyes were always the hardest because he never thought about it.
"Hello Elmo."
Elmo jumped in suprise. A tall cat with gagets and gears greeted him. A couple engineers surrounded him.
"Say, we do have some space open at the eevelopement team. You could stay for a project before finally leaving. We aren't all that far either so you can visit if you want. Are you up for that?"
Ototo extended his paw, his other paw holding a wrench. The other engineers were brimming with excitement. Elmo's smile grew wide.
"Its a yes yes YES!"
He hugged Ototo, the leader chuckling and hugging him back. The helpers all joined in on the hug.
Maybe he didn't have to say goodbye just yet.
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//First story done! Woohoo! What a happy ending, huh? This was based off my actual Gamatoto helpers. The only difference was that Elmo actually went home instead of going to Ototo. Let me know what you think!//
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Recalled • Part 1 • 8 - Ariana
Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 1 Masterlist • Next
Ohio, Home of the Akron Awol, this is where Ariana once lived, where she grew up and met Connor, and where she eventually betrayed him after she promised to run away with him. She doesn’t know where Connor is now, all she knows is that he’s successfully stopped unwinding all throughout the United States and that he’s got a new side piece named Risa Ward. She can’t blame him, after all, she left him for a wedding that was wretched by uninvited children, she’s just surprised he left her for a Ward of the State.
She works as a model now, often modelling for golden jew- elry or Yellow prints, they say the yellow goes well with her sweet violet and gray-streaked eyes. Her eye pigments are out of fashion now, but that doesn’t matter to her, it’s a keepsake to her about how she met the boy who would change the world.
Though not everything changed about her fashion slave personality, she succumbed to the Van Lifestyle with all the pretty aesthetics it had to offer.
Ariana doesn’t mind though, each day away from Akron makes her happier than before. She never liked how her parents talked about others anyway, Connor was always “That Lassiter Boy.” Miss Peggy from English Class was always “The Stuck Up One.” She could go on and on about all the names, but that doesn’t matter now, it’s in the past.
The honk of the car beside her in the empty parking lot had startled her, she got out of her van to be met with those bleeding-heart-hippie bumper stickers--PROACTIVE CITIZENS AGAINST UNWINDING, THE WHOLENESS COALITION, all over her next client's car.
“You don’t like them, not many people do, though some are starting to come around.” Ariana looks over to a young adult woman whose outfit screams Pre-Heartland War.
“Well that is one way to show where you stand in all of this, but, hey, wasn’t that company that kept unwinding alive called Proactive Citizenry?” Ariana asked.
“Yeah, that’s probably the only thing on that car that I want to cut off.” She confested. “My name is Valerie by the way, but I’m pretty sure you knew that already.” Ariana nodded, looking back at Valerie’s name on her phone.
“I wanted you to model some outfits for me, they’re mul- tiple toned pieces to resemble rewinds, when they start selling I’ll be sending half the prophets to the Rewind Wards in In- diana.” Valerie told her.
Valerie started rummaging through the pieces before picking out a crop top and something that looked like bell bottoms.
“Here, try this on!” Valerie said excitedly, shoving the clo- thes in Ariana’s face.
After coming back out of her van with the clothes on Ariana looks over to a wall full of street art where Valerie has set up a camera and a tripod.
“You're really going for this colourful vibe aren’t you?” Ariana chuckles.
Valerie looks back at Ariana and laughs. “I sure am.”
Through taking photos and swapping outfits Ariana finds out more about her client.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Valerie starts. “Unwinding is ab- solutely awful but there’s someone I knew that- I- I can really bring myself to pity him.”
Ariana faces her now, she has a face of disgust, possibly directed at herself. Ariana doesn’t know what this person did. But to not get pity from a girl who had hippie bloody heart bumper stickers, Ariana wanted to know more about this certain someone.
“If it’s not too much to ask of you? Who was it?” Ariana Pried.
Valerie looked her in the eyes, looked to the ground, and looked back at her again. “It was a guy named Roland Taggart, he was my ex-boyfriend and ran this little gang in my school.” She paused. “Weeks before he was set to be unwound, he had come up to me, mind you we had already broken up, and he put himself on me.” Valerie shuts up and stalls. Ariana can only assume she’s remembering the interaction beat by beat, she puts her hand on Valerie’s shoulder trying to get her out of it.
“Sorry.” Valerie gets out of it. “It’s just, traumatic.”
“I can’t relate to something like that, no one's ever been like that to me, but I can understand how much that could hurt you, for someone to do something that bad that it changes your morality on a subject, that must have been awful,” Ariana says.
After packing up and getting paid Ariana drives off for a little bit. Almost every day she’s somewhere new. “Ha! Guess I’m like Carmen Sandiego but for modelling.” She tells herself. Sitting beside a highway, she’s filled with nostalgia tonight, remembering the times when she and Connor would hang out at the underpass, where she told Connor she would run away with him, where his and her dreams got in the way of reality. Is Connor still mad at her? She did let him go free that night after her parents questioning, it’s been around more than two years since Connor ran away, from all he ever knew. She thinks back to the bumper stickers found on Valerie’s car, she wonders how many unwinds got unwound or escaped death just like Connor. Connor keeps coming back to her mind, “I guess I just can’t erase someone as infamous as you from my mind, huh?” She says aloud. No response, obviously, though, one day she wants to hear him talk again. It doesn’t matter what they talk about, games, books, music, whatever, she just wants to see him, she wants to know he’s okay, wherever he is.
Looking over to her phone she sees an incoming call from one of her clients, picking it up she’s informed that they have cancelled their appointment.
“Hmm, I guess it’s just me and my delusions for a few days.” She tells herself.
She goes back inside, driving to a safe space to crash.
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Sunday in Mainz dawned gray and cool, and if possible, grayer and cooler than the rest of the week. But the chance of rain dropped mercifully, so we didn't care. John was up unconscionably early and went to the gym and put on a show at the Hilton's unfairly diverse breakfast (featuring the pink bologna that dominated my youth and a honey mustard that didn't exist in the 1960s) before I walked him over to St. Peter's for the 9:30 mass. (He was baptized two weeks before at his Swedish Evangelical church in Arlington). We boarded the S metro train for Deutsche Bank Park at 12:43 and were through the gate by 1:30, a lovely two hours before kickoff....
Here, in the service of accuracy and full disclosure, are two nice shots of St. Peter's taken by somebody on Google....
And here is a shot of me in the hotel taking a needed pre-game nap....
John is much more of the extrovert than his older brother, so while I stood in the sausage, pretzel and soda lines (believe me, it's better this way), he chatted up the people in our row and managed to take two pregame shots. The Patriots offense warming up to sucking, and the two flags just before the two anthems. And yes, the German anthem is friggin stirring....
By the time I got back with the chow (two trips, three drinks, two pretzels and three wursts), John had taken another shot of the woman next to us. She had taken off her licensed Colts windbreaker and scarf to reveal this thoroughly unlicensed Colts shirt, which is German said "Patriots are cheaters!"
Her name is Kathleen Crossland. John and I are the last two of six children. Our mother had four miscarriages before finally giving birth to our oldest brother Tom in 1949 (As Adrianne used to say, "There's a Jewish woman who never had a headache!') I can't remember ever being with anyone who was from a larger family than the one I was in. Well, that day is over. Kathleen had come on a package with her sister Chrissy. They are the 4th and 11th of 15 kids from the same mother. And, are you sitting? There are from Broad Ripple, Indiana, home of my old boss Dave Letterman. (When I texted Dave, he immediately wrote back, "Another reunion I wasn't invited to!")
I'm not done. Chrissy and her husband worked at Mayflower Van Lines for years. When Bob Irsay moved the Colts from Baltimore to Indianapolis in the middle of the night in 1984, he famously used Mayflower. Chrissy's husband helped organized the move but was sworn to secrecy...even to his wife. Here's another public domain shot....
The Crossland kids have had four season tickets, first at the RCA Dome, then at Lucas Oil Stadium, since 1984. If Kathleen and Chrissy are any indication, it must a be a war to decide who gets the four each home game. They are the most delightfully rabid fans I have seen ever. The night before, they had gone to the "Colts Experience Fan Fest" and while Kathleen distracted security, Chrissy stole a life-size cutout of Colts RB Jonathan Taylor and they spent the rest of the night in their room, taking photos of cardboard JT in bed with each of them. (photo ideally TK....)
Of all the gifts of the day, including the 80 percent German crowd absolutely nailing karaoke versions of "Sweet Caroline," "County Road" and "Don't Stop Believing," the Crossland girls were the most indelible. (I love them both, but Kathleen is two month older than me....and a member of the widow/widower club.) And, as you can clearly see from the photo of the four of us, the monkey worked.
Colts 10, Patriots 6. John and I kept telling ourselves they needed it more.
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An annual celebration in Katarraktis
Saturday 11th November 2023
I awoke just after 7:30. Had I been dreaming? I thought I had heard a rhythmic hand clapping. Roja had done a double-take also. Then, just as I put it to the back of my mind and dozed, there it was again. No mistake this time. I sat up and peered outside the window. It was the old Abbot from the monastery. He had brought coffee.
We chatted. He had enough English, just, that we could about converse.
He was 87, and had sole charge of the monastery for the winter. In the summer, the high season, he had an assistant. Yesterday I had seen a coach party of 40 arrive to visit, but this was rare at this time of year he told me.
He said I was welcome to stay. I felt bad that I hadn’t asked his permission in the first place. He wore one of the most magnificent beards I have seen. I complimented him on it, to which he replied that he couldn’t remember a time without it, or ever trimming it. Then he returned to his chopping his firewood.
It had rained heavily most of the night, and was still doing so, thundery showers. It was another of those nights, that when leaving the van to use nature’s bathroom in the early hours the whole sky was lit up with lightning, without a break it seemed.
The rain did as it was predicted, and lessened mid-morning, ceasing all together just after 11. My reading, Guy Endore’s classic, A Werewolf In Paris, came to a natural break, so Roja and I headed out for a circuit of the village.
Such perambulations, unplanned village orbitals, I take on occasionally, and they are always rewarding; usually on rainy days like this, when any further traipse would seem audacious; in the mountains the thunder still rumbled, it was on intermission and planned to return.
It wasn’t long before Roja picked up a friend, a bitch called Ciara I soon found out, and she stayed with us throughout. I thought mistakenly, that she was the dog of two guys renovating a property, but it turned out the whole handful of people I met knew her also.
We took respite at the cafe. The only one open at the moment, and the place where I had had a couple of beers last night. We were made welcome, or rather Roja was. He has soon become a favourite amongst the locals and with the owner. The owner told me that it was a special day, one for annual celebration. The second of the waterfalls had returned overnight, having lay dormant since May, they are in the second and fourth photos.. It usually returns a month or so earlier. The locals refer to the pair as being God’s tears; when only the left chutes the village below is sad, almost as if in pain, when two flow, there is happiness. It certainly seemed like that this morning. Pretty much everyone we passed gave us a rousing greeting. Sat outside the cafe in the village square I was soon chatting to a visiting family, with young children, from Patras, staying at the Mountain Resort. The place looks particularly welcoming on a cold autumnal morning like today, and they told me, was half price for the weekend, 50 euros a night for a family room.
I had always planned a lazy day, so was back at the van at the monastery for mid-afternoon, to watch some sport and catch up on some admin.
Just as the light faded, the old Abbot brought cake. We sat and chatted again, this time inside the van; he with the vast monastery and its associated buildings to live in and take care of himself, and me with just my 6 square metres. We were so different in so many ways. He, a man of God, and deeply spiritual, me, a man of the mountains, of secularity. And yet we found common ground to chat about; the simple solitary life, and sense of purpose. I think he was quite envious of the van, though not so much that he wanted to stay to watch Leicester Harlequins.
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The Gift of Beauty
I can honestly say that I do not have a wide spread knowledge of art. I never took art classes, drama, or music; not because I don’t enjoy art, I just focused on other classes instead. In the last little while, I have found a new joy for art. Whether that means going to an exhibit or experiencing a play- I have been trying to see more. One exhibit that stood out to me was the Beyond van Gough Exhibit that I went to in Hamilton. It was fascinating learning all about Vincent van Gough’s life and his work. The exhibit began with a hall all about his life and who he was as a person. It then moved on to the photo room of his work. The exhibit also brought all of the photos to life in a 3-D experience. Most of them depicting nature scenes and farmers’ fields. From the knowledge that I gained through the walk through his life, I realized he was painting what he knew and what made him happy. This gave me a sense of knowing him and an understanding of what he was feeling while he was painting (Beck et al., 2018). Looking at: “Field with Irises near Arles”, I can feel the warm sun on my face and smell the fresh air that is blowing off the field. It gives me a sense of belonging because we have fields like that where I live; instantly feel right at home.
“Field with Irises near Arles” by Vincent van Gough
I think that parenting may be a form of nature interpretation. We lead our children out into the wilderness to teach them about history and teach them what we love. As my daughter grows up I want her to know all about nature, art, musical theater and photography. Her knowledge will begin with me teaching her about what I know and love. Over time it will leave room for her to connect her own dots and do what she would like with that knowledge. I hope that she cherishes nature and understands how important it is for us to protect it.
As Hookyaas (2023) mentioned, we take photos because there is “some element of beauty contained within that moment.” We want to capture the moment and have that feeling forever, and then share it with the world. When people see the photos I take and share on my social media, I hope they are able to sense the beauty in our surroundings and it puts a smile on their face (Beck et al., 2018). This is how I interpret the “Gift of Beauty”, by sharing moments that I have experienced in nature that made me say “wow”.
All this being said, I do not think I am equipped to interpret nature through art just yet. I still have a lot of understanding that I need to do myself. I hope to one day be able to understand it all, but maybe I never will. Maybe that is the point.
References:
Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Chapter 7. In Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World (1st ed., pp. 127–161). essay, SAGAMORE Publishing.
Hookyaas, A. (2023). Unit 03: Risk versus Reward in Interpretation. Courselink.
Photos:
https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/field-with-flowers-near-arles/lQFzzpeEHU-XxA?hl=en&ms=%7B%22x%22%3A0.5%2C%22y%22%3A0.5%2C%22z%22%3A9.253820327713509%2C%22size%22%3A%7B%22width%22%3A1.8689653874385934%2C%22height%22%3A1.2374999999999992%7D%7D
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little things
Rating: Gen
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, SoftBoi!Rodrick, Insecure!Reader
Ship: Rodrick Heffley x Reader
Warnings: Body Image, Eating Disorders / Body Dysmorphia, Insecurity
A/N: this is. SO shmoopy and cheesy lmaoooo but this was an anon request and i live to please :) enjoy!
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You dragged yourself through your front door, kicking off your shoes in the foyer. The house was dark - your parents were probably asleep already.
You had just spent the day with Rodrick at Six Flags, and you were exhausted from spending all day in the hot sun, running around with your boyfriend like children. You smiled to yourself thinking about the events of the day, the thrill of the rollercoasters you went on.
You clutched the teddy bear Rodrick had won you close to your chest as you slowly ascended the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.
You entered your room and tenderly placed the bear on the bed, giving it a little kiss on the head as you did so before starting your night routine. Change into pajamas, brush teeth, wash face. As you were putting on your final face cream, your phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. You knew who it was from the specific rhythm of the vibration - two short bursts, like a heartbeat.
Rodrick had sent pictures of you two from today - a lot of selfies, but also a couple of far away shots that Rodrick had harassed people into taking for you. People rarely were able to say no to Rodrick once he had gotten an idea into his head - even if that idea was wrapping himself around a street lamp like a stripper for a good picture.
You finally, blissfully laid down in bed, letting out a giant groan as you cracked your back. You browsed the photos, feeling your heart-rate pick up as you gazed at Rodrick in the pictures. He looked so cute today - he had been wearing cut off black jeans, black high-top vans, and a loose button down Hawaiian shirt, half-way unbuttoned to show off his tanned chest and the multiple layers of silver necklaces he was wearing. His nails were painted black, but his eyes were free of makeup, simply accented by his naturally long eye-lashes and the smile-lines around his eyes.
After admiring Rodrick, you turned your gaze to yourself in the pictures. You felt your heart sink into your stomach. When you had left the house this morning, you had felt pretty confident in your outfit - just ripped jean shorts and a crop-top with converse. But as you looked closer, you couldn’t stop thinking about how unsatisfied you felt with the way you looked in the pictures.
As you continued to scroll through, the more faults you found in your appearance. Your thighs being squeezed by your shorts, which didn’t feel too tight but apparently were not as flattering as you thought. In one picture, you were sitting down on a bench, your legs over Rodrick’s lap, but you couldn’t stop staring at the roll of your stomach that came over the waistband of your shorts. You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to cry. You spent a long time trying to feel confident in yourself - you weren’t going to let that hard work be ruined by a few unflattering photos.
However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way your body looked in those pictures. You got up to stand in front of your full length mirror, looking at the reflection critically. You were craning your neck to look at your butt when you heard a soft tap-tap-tap at the window. You jumped about 2 feet in the air before you realized it was just Rodrick, grinning from outside the window and placing a wet kiss on the glass, making you laugh. He made a grossed-out expression when he realized the glass was not as clean as he thought it was, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.
“I swear to God, you’re like a toddler. Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to lick random surfaces?” you asked as you opened the window to let him in. He folded himself gracefully through the window, all long limbs and messy hair. You felt both comforted and electrified in his presence.
“Since when have I ever listened to any authority figure?” Rodrick asked, grinning wolfishly and leaning down to kiss you softly, juxtaposing his rebellious tone. For someone with such a seemingly hard exterior, Rodrick was always very gentle and sweet with you. It was one of the things you loved most about him - he seemed to hate everyone but you. It made you feel special and appreciated.
As he pulled back from the kiss, he frowned, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are red,” he said, making a pouty face. You shrugged, turning away and shaking your head.
“No, just allergies probably.”
Rodrick scoffed, “Sure, allergies. You’re a bad liar, you know that?”
You refused to look at him, instead going to your record player and flipping through the vinyls you had stacked in a black milk-crate. “I’m not a bad liar,” you said half-heartedly, not really able to come up with any other excuse.
“You totally are, you avoided eye contact and everything. Seriously, what's wrong? Do you not like the bear?” Rodrick asked. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself smile despite your bad mood.
“No, I love the bear. I named him Sasha Bear-on Cohen. Get it?” you said, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.
“Ahh, a-very nice,” Rodrick replied in his best Borat impression. You giggled. He gave you a squeeze, hands warm on your waist, but the sensation made you self-conscious about your body again, and you wiggled away. You couldn’t understand how Rodrick could bear to touch you. You had no idea why he was attracted to you in the first place. It made tears spring to your eyes again, and you sniffled.
“Y/n”, Rodrick said softly, looking genuinely concerned. “I know you. You don’t get sad for no reason - unless you’re on your period, or you start thinking too much about the Mars Curiosity Rover.”
You sighed, but you knew he had a point. It took you a minute to get your thoughts into words before you spoke.
“I just... I know its silly. But those pictures - you look like a Hot Topic wet dream and I look... I don’t know. I just don’t like the way I look. And most of the time I don’t let it bother me - at least, I try - but I hate having my picture taken because whenever I see them, all I can see is the things I hate about myself. So. Yeah.”
You feel the tears making steady rivers down your cheeks, and your voice shakes as you speak. Rodrick listens attentively, sitting on the foot of your bed. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. His hand rests on your leg - not constraining you or placating you with a hug, just letting you know he’s there.
“Y/n, I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding like a giant cheese-ball, but... holy fuck. You are so beautiful. I - every time I look at you all I can think is goddamn, I can’t believe she’s into a loser like me. And don’t argue, it’s just a fact,” he says quickly as you try to defend him from his own self-deprecation.
“I’m not good with words... I’m more of a man of action, y’know?” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You smack him on the arm, but his silly expression still makes you smile.
“But, I can still tell you - and don’t repeat this to anyone ever because I’ll never live it down - you give me butterflies. Every time. No matter if you’re in pajamas or a ballgown. You make me feel like a stack of pancakes with warm butter and syrup,” he pauses as you laugh, his warm brown eyes gazing into yours. “Just... I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. You make my bones feel funny. That’s how beautiful you are.”
Rodrick finally wraps his arms around you. You let yourself be folded into the embrace, feeling content and more than a little overwhelmed by his confession.
“Thank you,” you murmur, unable to find any other words at the moment. You want to say all of that back to him, ten-fold. You want to tell him he makes you feel like flashing concert lights and Fourth of July fireworks. But your mouth can’t make the words, so you just wrap your arms around him tighter.
“Do you want me to spend the night?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. You simply nod, already moving up the bed and pulling back the covers as Rodrick goes to turn out the lights.
In the dark of the room, only illuminated by the street-lamp outside your house, Rodrick looks very alien - all long lines and lean angles. It makes your heart-rate kick up again, and you feel a blush form on your cheeks. It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, or even been intimate, but this feels... different.
Rodrick tucks himself in next to you on your bed - it’s a queen size, so it fits both of you well enough that you could sleep together not touching if you wanted to. But Rodrick is a big cuddler at heart, even if he would deny it to his grave. He wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on his chest, already being lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
You feel like it’s important to tell him before you both lose the tenderness of the moment, so you finally open your mouth to speak.
“I’m so lucky. I know you think you’re... a loser, or whatever but, Rodrick. You aren’t. You are so beyond cool, and brave, and courageous. Thinking about you makes my head spin. And whenever I see you... I’m home.” You trail off, feeling awkward, but Rodrick simply tightens his arms around you, stroking your back with his fingers.
“If I knew we were getting this sentimental I wouldn’t have brought lube... and maybe a few tissues,” he snickers, and you pinch his nipple, causing him to squeal.
“Jerk.”
“Bitch,” he teases back, and you sigh softly, feeling your body and mind relax. You had almost completely forgotten about the pictures - and at this point, you didn’t really care. The pictures didn’t speak. The only voice telling you that you weren’t beautiful was the one inside your head, and it could definitely be a bitch sometimes.
You could’ve imagined it, but as your brain was finally shutting down, you could’ve sworn you heard Rodrick start to sing, “you are my sunshine... my only sunshine...”
“you make me happy... when skies are gray...”
“you’ll never know, dear, how much i love you...”
“please don’t take my sunshine away...”
#devon bostick#rodrick heffley#rodrick heffley x reader#rodrick heffley fanfiction#rodrick heffley fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#comfort fanfiction#comfort fanfic#hurt fanfiction#hurt fanfic#hurt/comfort fanfic#Diary of a Wimpy Kid
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I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.
I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.
In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.
Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.
Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…
You can set the bar so very low and yet…
The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.
It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.
And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.
By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.
Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.
Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.
We worked hard. And hard. And hard.
And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.
But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.
It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.
In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.
"What's in the-"
"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.
"What's happening," I asked Blue.
"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."
"Blue… what does that MEAN?"
"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."
I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.
Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.
Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-
Four.
Tiny.
KITTENS!
Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.
They immediately started climbing up my arm.
"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"
"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."
"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.
"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"
So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.
In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.
This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.
The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.
Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.
Sounds great, right?
The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.
So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.
'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.
If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.
And you can't just tape the box shut.
So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.
Mood.
I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.
Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.
It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.
"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"
Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"
Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."
Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.
Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.
We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)
Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.
Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.
It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.
And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.
They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.
Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.
Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.
And then there was one.
There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:
We are the Skeleton Crew.
We once were seven but now are two
We don't know what to do
So we just work, work, work.
Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.
And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.
All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.
It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…
I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.
The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.
Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.
But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.
In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.
This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.
We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.
Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.
We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.
It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.
Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.
"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.
"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."
"Okay, then."
She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.
Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.
"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."
She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."
"I'll say."
"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"
"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."
She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."
"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"
"Oh, I dunno… maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."
This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.
Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.
And they wanted to take that away from us.
And they did. Because who was going to stop them?
'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'
Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.
There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.
But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.
Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.
Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.
I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.
But I powered through. I adapted.
Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.
I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)
An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?
And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.
But we adapted. We created a rhythm.
Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…
Okay, so before I forget:
Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.
It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.
...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.
By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.
Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.
By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.
At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.
This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.
There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.
But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.
So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.
The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.
If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.
Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)
That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.
But I powered through. I adapted.
Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)
And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?
"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.
Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.
In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.
Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.
"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."
She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.
And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.
She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.
But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.
"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."
We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.
One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.
Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.
At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.
Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.
And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.
I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.
I really should have beaten them up.
But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.
And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.
And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.
I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.
Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.
So they paid her hourly.
...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.
And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.
I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.
And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.
I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.
When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'
And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.
But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.
A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.
Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.
Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.
And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.
When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.
I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.
As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.
"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"
The best she could do was nod.
"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."
He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.
That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.
I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.
So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.
But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.
To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.
They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.
And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…
I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.
I felt like I was made of splintering wood.
I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.
So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.
That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.
If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.
On this one… nothing important happened.
We were… slow.
Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.
Sounds great, right?
...heh…
Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."
I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.
And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.
"Why are the counts off?"
Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.
"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"
...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.
"We need to know where they are."
We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.
But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.
We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.
And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.
We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.
I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…
But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.
So fucking much.
And yet it's our fault.
I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.
The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.
But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.
Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.
I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.
"Grandpa, I have to quit."
I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.
"Why?"
"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."
I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."
"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.
"...it's not me, is it?"
"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."
"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."
So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…
...but they understood.
Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.
He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.
But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.
No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.
This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?
They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.
Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?
Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.
It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.
And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.
I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.
I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…
I didn't.
It was probably stupid.
But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.
That's something, I think.
About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:
"Hey guess what."
"What," I replied.
The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.
"Pop-eye!?"
"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.
The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."
"What!? Why?"
"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."
"Are you okay? How are you doing?"
"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."
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Stuck with Heartslabyul
I also procrastinated on this for so frickin’ long. I made two other series of being home dorm quarantined with other TWST characters like Octavinelle and Savanaclaw which you can go read if you want! I hope you enjoy this one! ^^
Riddle Rosehearts
He still somehow carry out his dorm leader duties-
Let us shed a tear for this young boy-
also there is from head to toe neatly
V e r y neatly
placed in order
organized files, books, documents-
What tf is this an office or a dorm room?????
well whatever-
He thinks that this is the perfect opportunity to bake things.
With you!
Well, truthfully he can’t really bake as well as Trey but he tries,
and if you are by his side baking,
he feels a little bit more confident, and a lot more happier!
Unbirthday parties can’t be carried out since
ya know,
no social contact :’)))
so, he’ll just have daily unbirthday parties with you!
And lemme just tell you,
after so many hours of baking,
he’s getting the hang of it-
And you realized he’s actually really good in setting a tea party atmosphere.
Like he knows how to arrange the teacups,
he prepared frickin’ napkins my lord this Ciel Phantomhive kid is extra-
But not going to lie,
It’s really pretty the set up.
AND HE GOT THEM ROSE PETALS ON THE TABLE-
EVERYTHING IS ARRANGED SUPER PRETTY-
Buuuut, his baking still needs some work going-
D A N G THO-
“RIDDLE, THAT’S A LOT OF SUGAR-”
“Oh? R-really? Didn’t it say 5 tablespoons?”
“You poured 5 whole cups-”
“Ah-”
Trey Clover
Listen,
being stuck with Trey is the best option-
He bakes
A SHIT TON OF PASTRIES-
And I’m not saying he baked a lot of pastries equivalent to how much he bakes for unbirthday parties-
Oh no non no-
It’s frickin’ thrice the amount-
THE ENTIRE ROOM SMELLS LIKE EVERY SWEET PASTRIES OUT THERE-
He experimented a lot-
From baking macrons, chiffon cakes, frickin’ candy art-
You are blessed when you’re stuck with him, s/o-
seriously-
“Holy shit Trey, what is that??”
“Oh, I’m just carving the chocolate.”
“Honey, that looks like you just created Van Gogh shit, that looks fancy and really hard to do-”
“Sugar, I’ll make your food look and taste like ‘Van Gogh shit’ for you anytime.”
“OH MY SHIT YOUR SO SWEET, I CAN’T-”
Cough cheesy Trey cOuGH
And he’s like a housewife not gonna lie-
he wakes up earlier during quarantine surprisingly,
maybe cuz he always finish schoolwork MUCH earlier now-
and he doesn’t have much to carry out as Vice dorm-
so he wakes up early,
and cooks frickin pancakes whatever delicious shit that comes to mind for you to eat for breakfast
cbdhidcchnff hnf
W H A T-
Also brush your teeth after you finish eating-
Cater Diamond
Man-
Cup noodle game is strong-
Unhealthy, yes-
but you do all sorts of things with it,
to which he’ll always post on Magicam.
Like you guys make curry instant noodles,
salad with the dry instant noodle bits for salad toppings--
list goes on my dude-
bruh-
and not only that,
he posts all those like daily life at home (or in this case his dorm room-)
and he’s gonna be posting about E V E R Y T H I N G
From what you both had for breakfast, what you guys did at 3 pm,
Every. Second. Of. Being. Stuck. With. You.
B R U H
“CATER, I LIKE SOME PRIVACY-”
“I know, that’s why I’ll post it in my private account which is my diary btw~”
“First off, your private account has like at least 1000 people in it, secondly, buy yourself an actual book diary, and thirdly, I’m liTERALLY IN THE TOILET WITH UGLY ASS BAGGY PANTS TRYING TO FIX THE LIGHTS-”
“BUT BABE-”
Because of this incident, you bought him a plain writing book online.
You know he wouldn’t like writing with a lot of words,
soooo
Scrapbooking! *Cue the glitter filter*
he has so much fun!
Decorating, pasting all the photos he took with you and printed them out.
He loves it so much! Being stuck with Cater is productive and maybe a little tiring, but hey! Works for the both of you!
Deuce Spade
This boy-
Oh my god-
He’s absolutely so sweet and adorable-
I can’t-
He’s not the best, he knows,
sometimes he wonders why you would ever want to be stuck with him-
but this man puts in more effort than he can to make sure you are comfortable during the pandemic time-
like his cooking went from a C to S class dear-
Although they are egg based dishes, there is
A w i d e variety in each dish-
And it really tastes good-
But you can tell he’s really tired trying to perfect his dish,
he wished he was Trey my lord-
DONT EVER THINK THAT BBY
YOU ARE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE VSJVSWEADFGFHFTYKV-
Cuddle him please,
every day at every hour at every second just pleaseeeee
he needs it-
and he wants it-
but is just shy about it-
GIVE HIM THE CUDDLES-
ahem sorry-
continuing,
he surprisingly took up knitting and wanted you to join in after browsing online for more recipes to which randomly stumbled upon knitting basics videos
So arts and crafts time!!! ahh children-
He knits a very simple cloth at first-
which escalated to become scarves, blankets , mittens, sweaters like-
w o a h
Grandma Deuce-
and he also found these charity organizations who sold homemade products online to collect money to raise funds to give to people in need.
Let us put it as it’s not a scam website.
Soooo he published some of his hand made scarves, blankets and sweaters online-
And I swear this man is so sweet I can’t-
“Well, we have to do something to help these people! And they’re giving us a chance to give them our support!”
YES DEAR U ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT
YOU ARE GONNA BE MODEL STUDENT EACH YEAR-
He also used the first handmade blanket he knitted with you as your official sleeping blanket.
With shit tons of cuddles.
Being stuck with Deuce is honestly just so sweet and wholesome.
Ace Trappola
This idiot-
This absolute h e a t h e n-
I just wish you good luck man-
He just absolutely LOVES to prank you.
“ACE WHAT THE FUC-”
“What the fck what?”
“YOU PUT THIS WATER BALLOON ABOVE MY DOOR DIDN’T YOU?!”
“Huh? What makes you think that?”
“WE’RE LITERALLY THE ONLY ONES IN THIS ROOM WHAT YOU MEAN HOW WOULD I FCKING KNOW-”
You just gotta survive by pranking him too.
Also this man-
LOVES
G A M E S
And not just video games,
Oh non no no-
Hide and seek, chase-
ya name it.
At every hour-
You also play virtual UNO with the whole Heartslaybyul gang sometimes-
“WTF GIVE ME A GREEN-”
“AHAHAHAHHAHA-”
“Riddle, lower your microphone level-”
“TREY SHUSH, I’M NOT LETTING THAT ACE BASTARD WIN, SO I WNT THIS STUPID CARD DECK TO GIVE ME GREEN-”
*Pulls a green card*
“FINALLY!”
*You put in the green reverse card*
*Switch back to poor Riddle lmao*
“NOOOOOOOOO, WTF GIVE ME A GREENNNNN-”
“AHAHAHA NICE ONE S/O-”
Cuddles
every night-
moving on,
He’s also the type who will make memes of the two of you when being stuck together lmao-
As for food-
either take out or you cook-
He cannot be trusted with the kitchen-
he can’t take one step in it no joke-
All in all, being stuck with Ace is really just crack level head energy soraing through the sky with his love dovey antics.
#Twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#Twst x reader#Riddle Rosehearts#Trey Clover#Cater Diamond#Deuce Spade#Ace Trappola#Riddle rosehearts x reader#Trey Clover x reader#Deuce Spade x reader#Ace Trappola x reader#Cater Diamond x reader#Heartslabyul#Twst riddle#Twst Trey#Twst Cater#Twst Deuce#Twst Ace#Twisted wonderland headcanons#Twst headcanons#Twst x reader headcanons#twisted wonderland x reader headcanons#Heartslabyul x reader
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Banana Pancakes
HELLO MY LOVES! WHEW! This one took me WAY longer than I had wanted it to, but you know, life comes at ya and you gotta go with the punches.
That being said, this fic is part of @stellarboystyles THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC CHALLENGE! Congrats darling (though I’m a month late)! I had picked the single parent trope and the line I chose to use for the challenge is bolded and italicized in my fic.
Without further ado, I present my Nanny!Harry fic. Enjoy, leave a like, REBLOG FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Send me some feed back, asks, love or hate, I don't care. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!
I love you and treat people with kindness.
Warnings: Lots of fluff, a sprinkle of smut, and a dash of angst (if you squint).
Harry woke up to the smell of the crisp, cool fall air coming through his cracked bedroom window. The sky was still an inky fog as he stretched his arms over his head, skin pimpling as the air caressed him. He woke up before his alarm out of habit, knowing it would ring out shortly.
He roused out of his bed, extending his stretch through his legs and let out a satisfied groan when that one particular muscle in his lower back felt the pull it desired. He turned to his phone to turn his alarm off before going to the window to shut it, only after his dark tabby cat climbed back into his rightful home. Harry mumbled a ‘morning handsome’ to his fuzz ball, crouching down to give Elvis some morning loving.
Elvis followed Harry into the kitchen, knowing it was time for breakfast, mewing while figure-eighting between Harry’s feet.
“I know bub, I’m getting it.” Harry let out a yawn as he was filling the cat’s bowl. Elvis jumped on the counter, shoving his face in the bowl before Harry was even done filling it. “Eager this morning, are ya? Out there charming all the lady cats got you hungry? I hope you were a gentleman, I taught you better.”
Harry began making his coffee and filled his mug before returning to his room to get ready for the day. He decided on picking her favorite sweater; his blue ‘mon petite’ chickadee jumper. He laid it out on his bed as he pulled out his brown wide legged trousers and a striped button up to layer. He jumped in the shower to rinse off the morning haze and the ‘sleepies’, as his girl calls it.
His girl.
He smiled as he thought about her, what they had planned for the day. Maybe he will take her to the museum, stop by her favorite cafe, pick up a new book for them to read. He finished getting ready, pulling out his bike from the hallway closet to get it all set for his venture to his girl’s house. He grabbed his backpack, filled it with his girl’s favorite snacks, books, and their matching lavender water bottles, smiling as he threw his bag on his shoulders and carried his bike down the stairs of the apartment building.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry got to his girl’s home, putting in the code as he turned the key as to not awake her with the alarm. He put down his bag by the entry table, kicking off his scuffed up white Vans before softly padding up the stairs. He saw the door cracked open, slowly pushing it open further before walking to kneel by the bed.
He gently pushed her unruly hair off her beautiful face, seeing her lips in a pout and a furrow in her brow. She stirred slightly before her big doe eyes sleepily blinked open, causing Harry to smile down at her, which earned him a smile back.
“Good morning, my sweet girl.”
“Mornin’, did mama leave yet?”
“Not yet, Monkey. You know she can never go to work without giving you your kiss.”
Layla sat up fully, making grabby hands for Harry to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Harry could hear you in the shower getting ready for work as Layla cuddled into him on his way to your kitchen.
If you would have asked Harry two years ago if he thought he would be the nanny to your daughter, he would have laughed at the idea. He had been working at a daycare center when he first met you and his girl, Layla.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She was an infant when you had to return to work. Being a single mom, you needed to do what was best for you and your little bundle of joy. You had done extensive research on all the daycare facilities in your area, even venturing out a little further to get the best for your little angel. You had taken her to Small Wonders Daycare, nervous for your first day back as a pediatrician resident at the children’s hospital and your first day away from the love of your life.
You had walked into her assigned room provided by the administration when you completed the application and interview. The room was duckling yellow with moss green accents. Babies were laying on their bellies on the floor, being cooed at by a gentleman in a sheep sweater vest and tan trousers. He looked up to see you with Layla in her carrier, beaming and quickly hopped on his socked feet to meet you at the door. His co-teacher promptly laid with the little ones on the floor.
“You must be Mrs. Y/LN!”
“Um, no, just Dr. Y/LN or Y/N preferably.” You smiled at him as he was blushing from embarrassment.
“I - I am so sorry.”
“It’s alright. Not the first time it has happened.” You smiled at him before looking down at your little one who is looking around with wide eyes. Harry also looked at the carrier, quickly gaining his composure as he saw the little beauty.
“And you must be Layla!” Cooing at her, causing her to smile and blink slowly. He got on his knees as you placed the carrier on the floor so that he was able to unhook her and gently pick her up to his chest. He softly looked down at her as she returned the gaze, “Don’t tell the other girls this but, you have got to be the most beautiful little girl I have ever met.”
Layla quickly nuzzled into his chest, scratching gently at one of the sheep on his vest, giving you a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that your daughter is already in good hands. You had tried not to cry as you told Harry her schedule and routine, handing him her diaper bag.
“She prefers her milk at room temp, she gets fussy if it's too hot or too cold. There is enough breastmilk for the day and formula as well, if you need it. She has been eating me dry.” Harry gave a light chuckle, handing you your baby as he was putting the breastmilk in the refrigerator, Layla’s diapers and wipes in their designated spot by the changing table.
“I packed some extra clothes in her bag too, lots of bibs. She is not the most ladylike when it comes to eating, huh baby?” You gently rubbed her cheek as you looked down at her with maternal love.
Harry, always in awe of the way a mother could love her child and after being with you for a few moments, he knew that you could never love or cherish anything more than the little being cradled in your arms. The way your daughter looked up at you with awe, watching your every movement. That was a love that Harry always craved for.
Seeing Layla grow was one of Harry's fondest memories. He was there when she started to take her first attempt at steps, babbling and cooing her first ‘words’. When it was time that Layla was meant to graduate from his class room, it broke his heart. And it broke yours too.
Harry and Layla had created such a bond, you couldn’t bear for them to part. So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you walked into the classroom to see Harry laying on his back with your little one being held up in the air, giggling away with a few teeth that finally peeked through her gums.
“Hello my little one!” You had knelt down on the carpet next to Harry as he was handing you Layla, who was extremely happy to see you; kicking her legs and squealing happily. “Did you have a good day?”
“She was a little monkey today!” Harry was packing up Layla’s diaper bag as he was telling you about her day. “She was trying to climb out of her crib, climbing all over my lap during lunch and my back during tummy-time.”
“Oh no! We just got crawling down like a boss and now you get the gall to start climbing! You’ll be walking before you know it and then we will be in real trouble, wont we missy?” You started to kiss her chubby cheeks, making giggles bubble from her tummy.
“I’ll certainly miss her.” Harry gave you a shy smile as he carried her diaper bag and a gift from him for Layla to you. He handed you her bag as you stood up before handing you the gift bag.
“What’s this?” You gave him a curious look as you took the bag in hand as you settled Layla on your hip.
Harry scratched the back of his neck and wiggled his socked toes. “It’s just a little something.”
Layla reached her arms out to Harry, as if she knew this would be the last day that they would be able to cuddle. You handed her over easily, tapping her bum before opening the gift bag. Inside was her favorite book to ‘read’ with Harry, (you're pretty sure it's because of the way Harry reads it to her because she crawls away every time you try to read it). There was a crochet sweater that Harry told you his mom made, and a framed photo of Harry and Layla where Layla is squeezing Harry's cheeks to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.
You held your chest as you looked at the photo and tears began to well. “Harry, this is… this is so sweet, thank you. She loves you so much.”
He smiled down at her, scrunching his face, which Layla had mocked, “I guess I love her too. You have a very special girl on your hands.” He kissed her little nose before she cuddled onto his shoulder.
“I don’t want her to have a new teacher.” You wiped your eyes as you put Layla’s gifts back in the bag. “Would you want to be her nanny, Harry?”
Harry froze at the offer, a little taken back by being offered what he would consider to be a dream job; help you care for your perfect child. Granted, Harry had thought of this before but more of a fatherly figure than a nanny, but he would take what he could get to be close to both of his girls.
“What do you say Monkey? Want me to be your nanny?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry made his way down the stairs with Layla wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her little fingers were twisting in the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck as he was humming and rubbing circles on her back. Layla unraveled herself as Harry approached the table to set her down so that he could start the coffee maker and begin making Lalya’s favorite breakfast.
Layla watched on with sleepy eyes, occasionally giving them a rub, as Harry pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, eggs, vanilla, bananas, and Layla’s favorite part, chocolate chips. She had quietly stood up from her perch and made her way to the ingredients as Harry was setting up the coffee pot. Harry had turned just in time to see Layla pop a small handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. She froze her movements.
“Monkey… what did I say about eating the chocolate chips before they are in your pancakes?”
Layla slowly reached for a few more, putting her hand out to Harry, “We share?”
Harry couldn’t help but to let a chortle out as he bent down, meeting his girl as her little fingers gripped on the chips that she moved to pop them in Harry’s mouth. “Thank you monkey! Would you like to help me mix?”
Layla quickly nodded as Harry picked her up to place her on the counter, making sure she was far enough from the edge before he handed her the whisk and placed the mixing bowl in front of her. Harry measured out the ingredients before putting them in the bowl for his girl to start mixing. Harry had pretended that he didn’t notice her add more handfuls of chocolate chips into the mix.
Harry heard your heels on the hardwood upstairs and Layla quickly turned when she realized you were coming down the stairs. You took Harry’s breath away, as you always did when you walked into the room. He could never take his eyes off of you when you were in his line in vision. He took in how perfect the blush pink, knee length, a-line dress perfectly hugged your curves. The way the nude heels made your legs look miles long. How perfect your hair frames your face and the beaming smile as you saw your baby girl.
“Good morning, baby!” You walked to the island of your kitchen to give your daughter a kiss, noticing the taste of chocolate when you pulled your lips from hers. You hum and squint your eyes, causing Layla to let out a giggle as she covered her mouth. “That’s funny, I’m pretty sure Harry hasn’t made you any pancakes yet, so why are your kisses so yummy?”
Layla shrugged as if she had no idea what you were talking about, causing you to look at Harry who gave you the same exact shrug your daughter had just given you. You shake your head, resting your hand on Harry’s lower back as you pass to make your coffee.
Harry focused on the touch, wishing that your hand was pressed a little firmer and a little longer. He wished that after you kissed your perfect carbon copy, you would kiss him too and catch him red handed after sneaking a few chocolate chips. He had wished that he wouldn’t have to go home at the end of the day to his lonely apartment. He shook himself from his thoughts as he heard you thank him for making coffee.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I made enough for you to take some with you too.”
“God, you’re a saint!” You squeezed his shoulder as you walked to the stool that held your purse and work tote. “Starting as a full time doctor at the children’s hospital has been so draining. I’m pretty sure I have been drinking a whole pot by myself.”
“I know that they just hired you full time but you should take some time for yourself.”
Layla watched on as you and Harry talked about work, slowly stopping her mixing and reached her hand for the chocolate chip bag. Harry slapped his hand on the bag, moving it away without even looking in Layla’s direction as he continued to talk about you and your self care. You let out a chuckle at Layla’s shocked pout as you take your last sip of your coffee.
“Alright my love, I need to get going. Be good for Harry.” Layla reached up to wrap her arms around your neck and gave you another peck to your lips.
“I will mama, I love you!”
“I love you too, baby. Have a good day Harry, call me if you need anything.”
With that, you walked out the door and got in your car to go to work as Harry got back to making breakfast for his girl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After eating breakfast and doing a team clean up, Harry took Layla to her room to pick out an outfit for the day. Layla stood there, wide eyed, watching Harry as he moved around her room, knowing exactly where everything was.
“I was thinking we could go to the park today, what do you think monkey? And after the park, we would go to the museum.”
Layla perked up, excited to go to two of her favorite places, hoping Harry would list her most favorite place when they have a day planned like this.
“And the cafe?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, now standing by his side while he was pulling socks out of her dresser.
“I don’t know monkey… do you think we should?” Harry was trying to hold back his smile, knowing how devastated she would be if he were to ever tell her no to her favorite cafe.
“Please, Harry? It’s my favorite.” Of course, she had to use those gorgeous eyes that she clearly got from her mother. Harry realized that he is so weak for these girls.
“Alright, I guess we must then.” Harry closed the drawer with his hip and Layla jumped and clapped before sprinting to her ensuite.
Layla quickly stripped out of her clothes and turned the knobs to the bath herself before using all her little strength to put the plug in the tub. Harry was smart enough one day, when Layla was feeling extra autonomous, to put stickers on where the perfect bath temperature would be, so that Layla would never burn herself or cry when it’s too cold.
Harry laid out her outfit for the day on the sink counter, grabbing a cup and kneeling before the tub to help wash her hair. He heard “I can do it” more times than he can count until it became time to rinse her hair, where she would wordlessly tip her head back and cover her eyes with her little hands.
They would mindlessly chat about what they were excited to see at the museum, what they would play at the park, until Layla randomly asked, “Do you have a daddy?”
Harry froze. He knew he obviously was going to answer but he was afraid of where the conversation would lead to. “I do.” He let the silence settle, not wanting to push Layla to talk due to his anxiety.
“Mama says I have a daddy out there somewhere but she loved me too much to share me.” Layla rubbed the water away from her face before looking at Harry with a gentle smile that began to turn to a soft pout.
“What’s the matter, monkey? You can talk to me.” Harry put the cup off to the side on the tub ledge before leaning in to listen to his sweet girl. Her little fingers began to trace the ink on his left arm since his arms were exposed after Harry pushed up his sleeves for bath time.
“I’m sad I don’t know anything about my daddy. Did he not love me?” Harry could see the tears form in Layla’s eyes and he could physically feel them form in his along with the lump in his throat.
“Oh, baby. I don’t know anything about your daddy but I do know that he is a very lucky man to have had you and mama.”
“Why is he gone?” Layla’s tears were freely falling and her little lip was trembling.
Harry grabbed Layla’s towel, picking her up and wrapping the towel around her so he could hold her to his chest as she nuzzled in his neck, exactly how she did when they first met.
“My sweet girl.” He was rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. Harry was curious as to what had brought this on but he didn’t want to press it. He did know that he was going to properly spoil his girl rotten today to make all her worries and heartache disappear.
Layla sniffled and wiped her runny nose on the towel before pushing away from Harry, resting her hands on his chest to look him in the face. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a good squeeze, making a smile spread to Harry’s cheeks, holding his girl closer.
“Will you Elsa braid my hair like mama does?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Probably won’t look as good as mama’s but I will try.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry must say, he’s pretty proud of his braid as he is putting Layla’s glittery sky blue helmet on her.
Harry had dressed her in an outfit he would probably wear. You always had a good sense of fashion and Layla was picking up on it as well, now that you have been giving her some more independence in choices.
Layla was dressed in dark purple corduroy flares with a cream sweater, speckled with pastel pinks, purples, and blues. Harry made sure that she wore comfortable but warm shoes, opting for some brown leather Chelsea boots. Harry grabbed her mustard yellow peacoat and threw a pair of gloves in his backpack, just in case, along with more socks, another sweater, extra hair ties and clips (Harry would occasionally steal her butterfly clips for his own hair). He made sure that their water bottles were filled and there were snacks and sanitary wipes in the front pocket of his backpack before throwing it on his shoulders.
Harry and Layla walked out the front door, her helping lock up the house, before walking to Harry’s bike. He picked up Layla to set her in the kid carrier attached to the back of Harry’s bike. You had been extremely nervous when Harry had first told you about the seat and wanting to take Layla for a ride. You offered to help him get a car, even if it was for your own sanity, but Layla loved riding on Harry’s bike way too much to ever say no.
Layla was patient and cooperative with Harry hooking her in, making sure she was safe and secure. Harry checked the straps and buckles three times before he gave Layla an approving nod while she returned his gesture, adding a giggle. Harry swung his leg over the seat, kicked up the kickstand and planted his feet on the pedals, making their way to the park. Layla enjoyed the scenery whizzing by while humming some song that Harry couldn’t make out, otherwise he would have joined her.
They made their way to the park, enjoying the rest of the morning hours there before they ventured to the cafe on the lake that was close to the park. Harry kept his bike locked up, opting to hold Layla’s hand as they walked to the cafe.
Harry had asked Layla why she likes this cafe so much many times and her answers had changed over the years. She used to tell Harry that it was because of “duckies”, then it turned to liking their hot cocoa. Today when he asked, his heart was warmed by her words and how wise she had become by the ripe age of three.
“Mama brings me here when we go to the park and you always bring me here. It’s our family spot.”
The waitress came over, beaming at Harry and Layla sitting across from each other, coloring on the placemat together.
“Oh my goodness, your daughter is so cute!”
Layla looked up at the waitress with a scowl before looking at Harry, causing him to laugh.
“I’m her nanny.”
The waitress looked taken back but quickly changed her features, looking Harry up and down and biting her lip. Layla continues to scowl at the waitress as Harry told her that they were ready to order.
Layla, being the smart girl she is, noticed how the waitress demeanor changed. How she was now only focused on Harry, began to twirl her hair and the constant lip biting. Harry had ordered his food and looked to Layla, who cleared her throat to get the waitress’s attention.
“My mama is prettier and she’s a doctor.”
Harry choked on his water at Layla’s childlike bluntness, causing a laugh to escape from his lips that he was trying to hold back. The waitress now was the one to wear the scowl as Layla’s own demeanor became confident with a hint of sass.
The waitress finally looked to Layla, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”
“It’s not nice to ignore me. I want hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and grilled cheese. Thank you.” Layla went back to coloring on the placemat, dismissing the waitress.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They had finished their lunch, the waitress returning minimally since she got scolded by the child. Layla had cleaned up her area, stacking all of her dirty dishes and utensils onto Harry’s plate before hopping down from her chair and reaching for Harry’s hand. They got back to Harry’s bike, having Layla grip onto Harry’s trouser leg as he was unlocking the bike to set it up properly to get Layla back in her seat.
On their way to the museum, she was playing with the keychain they had made together that was attached to the zipper of Harry’s backpack. They were chatting about what parts of the museum they were going to be looking forward to.
Harry had tried to make their time together as educational as possible. Her little brain was ever growing, becoming curious, and he tried to feed its thirst for knowledge. The museum was having an exhibit on extinct animals so he had made sure they made it in time for them to join.
Layla was a wonderful listener. Harry had to carry her, per her request, so that she could be close to the presenter as they walked around the exhibit so she wouldn't miss a word he was saying. Her eyes were glued to the speaker when he spoke, focused on the extinct animal figure on display when he would direct their focus. Layla had her fingers wrapped in Harry’s curls, twisting them gently in her little fingers as she sponged up the information. She would occasionally rest her head on his shoulder, nuzzle close, and Harry would rest his head on hers.
“Getting tired, sweetheart?”
Layla lazily shook her head no as her grip tightened on to Harry. Harry knew she would be fast asleep the moment he got her into the bike seat.
Layla slept all the way home, Harry careful to pull her out to not disturb her, holding her close as he got them inside. He carried her to her room, slowly peeling off her coat and boots before covering her in a crochet blanket; another gift made by his own mother for his girl. Layla curled onto her side, subconsciously grabbing for her stuffed monkey Harry got for her for her third birthday, and soft snores began to fall from her lips.
Harry kissed her cheek before turning on her white noise maker and leaving her door cracked. Harry made his way down stairs and plopped on the couch, falling asleep himself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry woke up covered in a soft sherpa blanket with the smell of garlic and tomato filling his nostrils. He let out a stretch before sitting up, seeing you standing at the stove and Layla at the table painting.
You were still in your blush dress from the morning but were barefoot and hair up in a messy bun with pieces framing your face. You were sipping from your red wine glass while pushing chicken and veggies in a skillet.
Layla perked up when she saw Harry staring at you. She had noticed this look he gave you before, the ever observant girl, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what the look could mean. She let Harry watch you a little longer until you had noticed he was awake when you turned around.
“Morning sunshine! Did this one wear you out today?” You were smiling at him as you continued to chop vegetables to put them in a salad, popping a chunk of cucumber in your mouth and handing Layla a chunk for herself, popping her piece in her mouth almost identical to you. Except, Harry was focused on the way your lips curled into a soft smile while you eloquently chewed and swallowed the piece of green veg before licking your lips, causing Harry to realize how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were.
“No, not at all. We had a great day, guess I just needed the rest.”
You nodded as you pulled three plates down from the cupboard to place on the table. You mumbled a “time to clean up” into Layla’s hair, that is now loose from its Elsa braid, as you kissed the top of her head. Layla gently put her paints away, Harry helping with the water cup and laying the painting on the counter to dry. Harry walked Layla to the bathroom so they could both wash their hands for dinner.
You had made up the plates and placed them on the table before Harry and Layla had walked out. Getting Layla a cup for water and another red wine glass, you poured Harry a glass and topped yours off, setting them on the table as the two walked out.
This had become a strange tradition for the three of you after you had noticed that Harry had lost weight and was concerned that he wasn’t eating properly at home by himself. He swore it wasn’t an issue but you had gone full mama bear mode on Harry and started to put a plate in front of him before he had an opportunity to tell you “no thank you”. You sat at the table with Layla and Harry, discussing their day.
“Mama, the lady at the cafe ignored me to stare at Harry. It wasn’t nice!”
You let out a giggle, thinking to yourself that you can’t blame the poor waitress for being enchanted by the magnetic being across from you. “You’re right baby, that’s not nice but hopefully Harry got a phone number out of it.”
You smiled across at Harry and he began to blush, opening his mouth to speak but Layla beat him to it.
“Why would Harry need her phone number? He can call you!”
As calm and collected as you were, Harry went into a slight panic; was he really that obvious when it came to his feelings for you?
“Again, you’re right baby. Harry can call me any time he wants.”
Harry’s eyes went wide and Layla’s scowl turned into a bright smile, going back to eating her dinner while Harry sat there frozen.
“I can call you?”
“Of course Harry, any time. Even if it’s just to check in on Layla.”
Harry deflated a little when you were clear about your intentions for a phone call just as a friendly gesture. Harry went back to eating, trying to disguise his disappointment.
Harry had helped you clean up while Layla went to get her pajamas on. There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you that you could both sense but you weren’t sure who would cut through it first, so you decided to bare the knife.
“Can I ask you a huge favor? You have every right to say no if you are busy or you just don’t want to.”
“Of course, can ask me anything.”
“Would you be able to watch Layla Friday night?”
“Yeah, no problem. Did you get called in to cover at the hospital?”
“Um, no, actually. I have a date.”
The knife you used to cut through the heavy air around you just went right into Harry’s heart. He couldn’t tell if you could notice but he could feel his blood run cold and his face go pale.
“No problem. I’ll just stay all day Friday. I should get going now though.”
“You don’t want to stay for the Great British Bake off? You always stay to watch after dinner.” You gave him a pout as you wiped your hands with a rag to dry them. Those eyes always work on him, no matter if they are from Layla or you, but his heart couldn’t bear to look at them tonight.
“I have stuff at home to catch up on and since I’ll be busy on Friday now, I should get it done.”
“Harry, you don’t have to watch Layla on Friday if you’re already busy. I can find a babysitter.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Harry quickly walked to the door, stopping when he saw Layla come down the stairs, trying to hold back his tears that he can feel burning.
“Good night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Layla reached her arms up to hug Harry, holding her extra tight and giving her a long kiss to her cheek before gently setting her feet on the floor and heading home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You were getting ready for your date as Harry was making dinner for him and Layla. You had offered to cook something up but Harry told you that you should get ready so you wouldn’t be late.
You walked down in the tightest dress Harry had ever seen you in, making his body ache from desire and heartbreak. How desperately he wanted to pick you up for a date with you walking out in that curve hugging maroon dress and black stiletto heel, putting your earring in and fluffing your hair to where you want it to lay.
“So pretty mama!”
“Thank you baby!” You gave the top of her head a kiss before going to pick up your phone from the charger to place in your clutch. You heard the horn of a car outside as you were grabbing your black trench coat.
“Okay baby, be good. You might be sleeping when I get back but I’ll come tuck you in. Harry, call me if you need anything.” You kissed Layla again and made your way to the door, locking it behind you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Your date has been going extremely well. David was a handsome surgeon you had met during your ER coverage when someone came in with intensive internal bleeding, leading to an emergency surgery where David was on call. Laughs were being had, drinks were flowing easy, then your phone rang.
You saw that it was Harry so you quickly answered, “Harry, is everything alright?” You could hear Layla crying in the background, making your heart race.
“Layla has a fever and I can’t get her to calm down.”
You took a deep breath, “What’s her temperature? Did you give her some children’s Tylenol?”
“She is at 100 right now, gave her the Tylenol and put a cool cloth on her head. She’s just so inconsolable right now. She wants her mama, Y/N.”
“Can I talk to her?” Harry put the phone on speaker as he continued to rock Layla, adjusting the cloth on her forehead.
You whimpered when you heard her choked sobs, gently asking, “Baby, wants the matter?”
Layla’s cries had died down a minuscule amount but you could make out what she was saying, “I want my mama!” Your heart was breaking and you looked to David, who at this point finished his wine and looked extremely annoyed.
“It’s okay baby, I’ll be home soon, okay? I’ll be right there.” Layla settled a little more and Harry ended the call with a “see you soon”.
David paid for the bill as you began to apologize and get your stuff together. David began to walk ahead of you before saying his cold goodbye at the door. “I don’t have time to drive you home, could you catch an Uber or something?”
You scoffed at him before rolling your eyes, “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for dinner but don’t expect a call from me.” You pulled out your phone as David walked away so that you could request an Uber.
You had rushed into your house, which was now eerily quiet for having a sick baby girl on your hands. You walked into the house further and found Harry laying on the couch topless with Layla laying on his chest, also topless and a wet towel between them. Harry had his fingers combing through Layla’s hair as they were watching Coco.
Layla lifted her head when she heard your heels on the hardwood, looking at you and tears began to brim her eyes.
“Hi my baby, you’re not feeling good, hm?” You knelt down by the couch as you stripped off your coat and Layla was reaching for you to hold her. You held her close, feeling the warmth radiating off of her but it wasn’t a concerning temperature at this point.
Harry sat up, folding the wet towel before taking it to the bathroom, walking away and coming back still topless. Your eyes explored his torso, his high waisted trousers cover up until under his butterfly. You continued to hold and rock your little one, who was now nuzzling into your neck with her breathing slowing. Your eyes finally finished their exploring of Harry’s dips and valleys when you met his eyes, mouthing a “thank you” for taking care of your daughter.
You stood up and kicked off your heels before climbing the stairs to tuck Layla in. You placed her in your bed so that you could watch her overnight. You walked back down the stairs after leaving your door cracked and promptly went to the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of Syrah, popping out the cork and pouring two hefty glasses before walking to the couch where Harry now sat with his shirt on. To say you were disappointed was an understatement.
Harry took the glass and looked at how full it was before giving you a look with a cocked brow and smirk. “Not good, huh?”
You ran your hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “It was fine until you called.” Harry instantly felt guilty for calling you on your date until you spoke up again.
“I didn’t tell him I had Layla, he had told me before the date that he never wanted children. I guess that should have been a major red flag. I’ve just been so alone and desperate that I took the first thing that jumped on me.” You took a huge swig of your wine before letting out a sigh. “I probably should have asked you if you needed a ride home before I started guzzling down my feelings.”
Harry smiled at you, “It’s fine. I can get an Uber.”
You almost spilt your wine when you sat up with a mouthful, quickly swallowing it. “Mm! He didn’t even drive me home! He made me get a fucking Uber!”
“What an asshole!”
“I know! Ugh, I should just give up while I’m ahead. I’ve got the most perfect daughter, I have a great job, although exhausting. I own a house and have a happy and healthy life… I guess I just get-“
“Lonely?” Harry thought that you were preaching to the choir at this point because he felt the same exact way; he had your daughter to care for, an amazing job, he is happy and healthy because you care for him.
You let out another sigh and closed your eyes, “Yes, so lonely. I have been doing this all on my own and it can be too much. I just want someone to hold me, tell me it will be okay, that I am doing a good job.”
“You’re doing an amazing job,Y/N.”
You slowly open your eyes and look to Harry who has been watching you this whole time. You let out another sigh because you can feel him pull you in but you don’t want anything to happen, not right now anyway, not like this.
As if your daughter wasn’t already your saving grace, she cried out for you right when you felt the pull to Harry become too strong. You put your wine glass down and go to your baby.
“You’re more than welcome to stay in the guest room if you don’t feel like making your way home this late. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry.”
And with that, you walked up the stairs to be with your baby and Harry called an Uber home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry had walked in, eager to start the day with Layla, thinking about maybe baking something and going to the art museum. When he walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you in a long t-shirt, bed head and bare legs with Layla on the counter eating sliced strawberries.
“Oh shit, Harry!”
“Mama! No swear!”
“Oop, sorry baby. Harry, I must have forgot to tell you that I had today off.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, I can head home so you can spend the day with Layla.”
“Or you can stay…” you were looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would agree to spend the day with you and Layla. “We would love for you to stay.”
“Yeah Harry! Please?”
The way that both of you are now giving him the eyes, he’s lucky he didn’t turn into a puddle on the floor. Harry began to peel his jacket and boots off, exposing his layered red sweater over a cream button up to match his brown and cream plaid pants, walking over to the island for Layla to pop a strawberry in his mouth. You smiled up at him as he began to help you prep the breakfast to build your own waffles.
Harry helped Layla get ready for the day, getting her in some black fleece leggings, a chambray shirt with some brown leather combat boots. Layla said she wanted mama to do her hair and that Harry shouldn’t take it personally.
Layla sprinted into your ensuite where you were finishing your simple makeup and loose curls, wearing high waisted dark skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulder sweater. You were still barefoot at this point and Harry thought that he could get used to this.
You made sure you unplugged your curling wand and moved it away from the sink so that you could sit Layla on it to do her hair. She already had white bows in her hand for you to put in her hair. You quickly did a crown braid to keep her hair out of her face and finished it off with a top knot, throwing a bow at the base of the bun. You dashed on your perfume, doing the same to Layla per her request and then threw some chapstick on the both of you before picking up Layla to place on your hip.
You looked up to Harry and asked him if he was ready to go. He swallowed that dry mouth away before giving you a nod.
You got Layla settled in her car seat, tucking your purse under her feet and gave her a kiss before you climbed into the driver's seat. Harry got comfortable in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror in the visor to look back at Layla who was ‘reading’ a book.
You looked over to Harry who was smiling in the mirror, causing you to smile before asking if everyone was ready. You stopped by a coffee shop drive through where you got Layla her hot cocoa, yourself a flat white, and Harry a black coffee. The drive to the art museum was a little ways so you let Layla pick the music for the car. You hummed along to the Disney songs until Layla was begging for you and Harry to sing, causing you both to giggle but sing along.
Harry took over when it came to the art museum, educating Layla on artists and types of paints and materials used. You followed behind letting them having their time together, warming to see Harry adore your daughter and her being excited to learn. You took a few pictures of the two of them and were reviewing them when Layla was hyper fixated on Monet’s “Sunflowers” painting. You froze at a picture of Harry knelt down with Layla between his legs and his hand on her tummy. She was pointing to a painting on the wall while Harry was looking at the camera with a beaming smile, the next one was the same pose with a softer smile and he was looking behind the camera, looking at you.
You looked up to see Layla running to you with arms open and Harry jogged close behind. Layla was talking a mile a minute about the sunflower painting as you knelt down to pick her up. You kept looking at Harry who was giggling at Layla’s gabbing and excitement while you could not focus on anything other than the way Harry’s dimples were popping and his eyes were crinkling. You shook yourself from the trance as you helped Layla get her jacket from the museum coat closet.
You decided to go out of the way to go to the cafe by the park. This would be the first time all three of you went together and you knew Layla would be excited when she saw the car pull into the parking lot.
You were right; she squealed and tried to get herself out of her car seat but Harry had beat her to it. She was in awe of the trees surrounding the lake and the cafe, all in their full bloom of fall colors. The leaves were scattered beautifully along the parking lot, leaves floating in the lake. The cafe was decorated in fall decor, preparing for the holiday season.
You requested a table by the widows facing the lake and sat Layla closest to the window so she could enjoy the view. She murmured how it looked like a painting at the museum and what paints were used in the art she was thinking of. You smiled at her before looking at Harry who was already looking at you.
Layla started to list all the colors she sees outside as the waitress approached, the same one that had eyes for Harry.
“Well, hello again.” She again was focused only on Harry, ignoring your’s and Layla’s presence. Harry had to laugh because the face you were making at that moment was identical to the one Layla had made the first time.
“I’ll let the ladies order first.” Harry nodded at you before you looked up at the waitress, giving her a sickly sweet smile. Her eyes widened when she looked at you, truly shocked by your beauty.
“Layla baby, you first.” Layla never looked away from outside, stating that she would like “hot cocoa with extra whip cream and a grilled cheese, please.” You had asked if she could get a side of veg along with her meal as you ordered a turkey club with a side salad and a cup of soup to share with Layla.
Harry had ordered his turkey burger with side salad before the waitress parted to bring a fresh pitcher of water. Layla had finally turned her attention back to you and Harry, going over her favorite parts of the museum throughout the meal. You're pretty sure she had listed everything she saw.
You made your way home, Layla falling asleep in the car. Harry had carried her up to her bed as you gathered all the dirty laundry to start a load. You sat at the table with your laptop, paying bills when Harry made his way down to you at the kitchen table. Harry let out a yawn and you pointed to the coffee maker.
“Fresh pot.” You smiled and lifted your mug to ‘cheers’ him. Harry sat across from you while you finished up on your computer and you suggested that you watch a movie or some garbage tv.
You got about halfway through the movie before you heard little feet pattering on the hardwood upstairs. Before you know it, Layla has crawled into your lap, laying her head on your shoulder while she looks at Harry with a sleeping smile.
“Good morning beautiful, sleep well?” She nodded at Harry as she nuzzled closer to you. You rubbed her back and patted her bum as you thought about what to do for dinner.
“I was thinking since we have already been bad all day, we should order some pizza.” Layla perked up at that before squeezing you tighter. You giggled as you pulled out your phone, hitting the speed dial to your favorite place.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With full bellies and a sleepy Layla, you get the two of you ready for bed as Harry puts away the leftovers and throws the boxes away.
You walk down with a clean face, hair up, and a pair of green cotton plaid pajama pants and a white oversized T-shirt. Harry walked back in from the recycling outside to you holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. You raised your eyebrows and giggled as Harry walked over to you. You popped open the pint and handed a spoon to Harry.
“Layla would be heartbroken if she saw you sharing with me and not her.” He smiled before popping the spoon in his mouth, letting the cream melt over his tongue.
You shrug, licking your spoon, “I don’t share my ice cream with just any one Harry.” You take another spoonful and look at Harry as you take your bite.
Harry could feel his heart racing, his mouth drying, his hands are sweaty. He can feel the word vomit in the back of his throat make its way to the tip of his tongue. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course Harry, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
You stood up straight when you saw that Harry had adjusted his own posture. He was avoiding your gaze now, looking to the spoon in his hand he was twirling while he tried to find his voice. You didn’t pressure him, you both just stood in silence.
“I’m very lucky to have had you walk into my classroom. I instantly fell in love with your daughter and I instantly fell in love with you too.” He was still avoiding your gaze but if he were to look up, he would see that your eyes have glossed and your lip is trembling, the way Layla’s does when she is trying to hold back her tears.
“I’ve known for an embarrassingly long time how I have truly felt about you but what we have is so good and I couldn’t bear to not have Layla in my life, couldn’t bear to lose you. I- Today was amazing and made me realize that it would kill me if I don’t tell you that I am completely and utterly, madly in love with you.”
Harry decided that it’s now or never to look at you, and you looked so beautiful in this moment as you do every time Harry looks at you. You may be in oversized and stained pajamas, your cheeks may be wet and flush and your lips bruised and trembling, but you are as beautiful as you are every day that Harry is graced with your presence.
You now try to find your words but you choke out a sob. Harry quickly wraps you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. You finally catch your breath and look up to him.
“I always knew there was something there but I was too scared to find out.”
Harry wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his palms. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”
You gave him the nod he was wishing for and he slowly leaned in as he pulled you closer. He was gentle in his movements, not wanting to scare you away from this moment. He planted his lips softly against yours, slowly moving so that he could incase your lower lip between his, softly sucking it between his lips. He moved closer so that your bodies were pressed together and he lowered his right hand from your cheek to your waist and his left hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into the hair pulled up into the bun on top of your head. He gently let his tongue graze your bottom lip before he pulled you closer and licked again with more fervor.
Your mouth opened more to let him in, just as you were opening yourself more to let him into your heart. Your hands reached out to grip at the sweater on his chest as you finally let go and let your tongue meet his. This move gives Harry the confidence and reassurance he needs as he fully licks into you to massage your tongue with his as he presses his hips to yours, pushing your lower back to the counter.
He pulls away breathless as he lays his forehead on yours, kissing your nose and rubbing the back of your head with his thumb. He goes back in to kiss you more, lifting you by your thighs to wrap around him. He carefully carries you to your room, gently laying you down on the bed as he starts to kiss down your neck, his hands massaging your thighs that are still wrapped around him. Harry pulls his sweater over his head and before you get the chance to admire him, his lips are pressed to yours. His fingers graze the waistband of your bottoms and he starts to pull them down, his soft and warm palms caressing the bare flesh of your thighs.
Harry continues to kiss the skin of your neck as you swallow down the lump that is forming in the base of your throat as you think about the next morning. “Harry, what if this changes everything?”
“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”
You let out a sigh of relief as the tears begin to form that you try to blink away. Harry’s face is again level with yours, kissing your cheek. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?”
Your lip trembles as you tell him yes, never feeling loved before this moment. Harry gently kissed you and he reached for the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, exposing your sports bra and he leaned on his hunches to finish pulling your bottoms off. Harry took his time, kissing every inch of you. Your stretch marks from carrying Layla, your stubbly thighs because you didn’t have time to shave your legs fully this morning, your freckles and scars. Harry truly loved every inch of you, and you could feel it.
“Can I take these off, love?” Harry’s fingers were tucked into your cotton panties when you gave him a nod. You were nervous because it had been longer than you would like to admit since you have been intimate with someone. Harry slowly peeled them down your legs, kissing a trail behind.
“Harry… it’s been a long time…”
“It’s okay, I’ll take my time with you.” He kissed your ankle as he dropped your panties to the side of the bed. “Can I start by touching you?” You nod again and you lean up to pull off your sports bra and adjust the pillow behind your head. Harry still sat on his knees between your legs to admire you. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you.”
You give him a shy smile before leaning to your side table, appreciating him for being so kind and gentle. You hand him the bottle and he pops the cap open, spreading some along his fingers as well as dripping some on your center. He placed the bottle by his leg, just in case he doesn’t have enough.
“Talk to me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much or not enough. Tell me what you need.”
“I will.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you, hovering over you as he started to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds. You gasp at the coldness but quickly relax when you feel Harry’s fingers explore you more; spreading you open, pinching a lip or your clit between his fingers. He gave you one last lick into your mouth before leaning back again.
You opened your thighs more to accommodate him as he watched his own fingers explore you. You watched his brow furrow and he occasionally licked his lip. Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger slowly dip in you.
“This okay?”
“Yes.” Your hips flex up involuntarily to meet Harry’s finger that he is slowly dipping and pulling out of you. His thumb slowly started rolling over your clit and you let out your first moan. It was soft, but present enough for Harry to speed up his movements a little bit, earning a louder moan from you.
“You like that baby?” Harry slowly pulled out his middle finger so that he could slide his middle and ring finger in together, giving you the stretch to need. When he got to the base of his fingers, your back arched and Harry began his come hither motion on your walls, reaching further to hit the soft sponge that you needed him to find.
“Harry, right there!” He added a little more pressure to your gspot before returning to his massaging gesture, using his other hand to figure eight your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the brink of the tip over but you needed something, you just weren’t sure what it was but Harry seemed to know.
He leaned down to kiss you fully again, the pressure of his body on you caused his thumb to add more pressure to your bud and his fingers to plunge a little deeper, causing the rush to flow over you and the tingles to start in your fingers and toes. You moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss you to keep you quiet but you pulled away to catch a breath, panting into his shoulder as he kissed your neck.
Harry began to slow his movements, pulling his hands away to massage at your thighs as he continued to kiss your neck down to your chest. You could feel him straining in his trousers on your core as he laid on you.
“Was that okay?” He continued to kiss your chest, licking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue across it. You rolled your hips into him, feeling the vibrations from his moan into the flesh of your breast.
“It was great, thank you.” Your hand was combing through his hair as he moved to your right breast.
“Can I make love to you?” He looked up at you, watching your soft, blissed out face turn into a gentle smile.
“I would love to make love with you, Harry.” He leaned up again to kiss you before standing to pull off his trousers. He reached for the nightstand to grab a condom, putting it on and adding some extra lube before setting the bottle aside.
“Let me know if you need me to stop or anything.” He kissed your forehead, your closed eyes, each cheek, then your nose before landing on your lips. He lined himself up to your core, all while kissing you, before gently pushing into you with a role of his hips.
With each roll and deeper kiss, he sunk deeper into you. You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch a breath, feeling dizzy from being overwhelmed emotionally and physically. Harry continued to slowly thrust into you, barely pulling out before he would roll again. He lifted a knee to lay flush with your thigh, opening you more which caused Harry to pull out more than he intended to push back into you.
You let out a moan and your head tipped back after that particular thrust, causing Harry to remove his face from your neck to look at you and repeat the same motion, over and over again. He could feel how wet you were getting, almost too wet that he was slipping out of you more, causing his thrust to be sloppy and deeper.
He lifted the thigh he had pushed up with his knee up to his shoulder, hovering over you more and looking right down at you. You look up to see Harry’s curls falling over his face, his face and chest flush, your hand moved up to move his hair so you can see him in all his beauty. You leaned up to kiss him, creating a new angle that had you both moaning.
Harry could feel himself coming undone, knowing that he had to get you there first. He let his hand travel to wear your bodies met, rolling your bud under his thumb once again. You sat up on your elbows to keep the angle you both loved as well as to stay close to Harry.
“I’m so close, don’t stop Harry.”
He leaned in to kiss you, mumbling “I love you” against your lips between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N.”
At that confession, your arms gave out so Harry quickly gripped you close with his free arm and rolled his hips against you until he moaned out your name and let his orgasm flood over him. He gently laid you both down, resting his head on your chest as you both embraced and caught your breath.
Harry felt your fingers stop moving in his hair and little snores escape your lips. Harry has seen that sleepy pout on your daughter more times than he could count but seeing it on you has made him the happiest man alive. Harry maneuvers himself so that you are both lying comfortably and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You wake up to find that Harry is not in bed, but all the clothes from last night are now in the hamper and there is a set of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. You can hear little giggles and a few “oops” from the kitchen. You get dressed and make your way down stairs.
Layla turns her head to you when you walk in, beaming with a “morning mama!” Leaning up to give you a kiss.
“Are you stealing chocolate chips again? Some extra sweet kisses this morning!”
Layla giggles as you press your hand a little firmer and longer on Harry’s lower back as you go for the coffee pot. You lean up to give Harry a kiss, noticing that he has been dipping into the chocolate too. Harry quickly went back in for another kiss, sweeter than the chocolate that lingers. You pull away slowly looking into Harry’s sleepy green eyes and wish him a good morning.
“Morning love, banana pancakes?”
“I’d love some.”
#stellarboystyles3years#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles one shots#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles angst
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Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.8
Previous
Warning(s): Nothing just fluff
If you want to be tagged or if you’re already tagged and wish not to be, please let me know.
Tag list @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink @ima-simp-uwu @luckyauthorlampknight
The pair of brothers spent the rest of the night in Mammon’s room. Around dinner time they were joined by the twins who had brought tonight’s dinner. They had decided to eat with their second eldest brother, having heard from Satan who had heard from Lucifer that Mammon had had a particularly rough day at school and figured sharing a hot meal together would be a good way to comfort him. Even Levi stopped by after they had finished eating, bringing plenty of games that he and Mammon enjoyed playing together -along with the appropriate console- after they had first fallen so Levi wouldn’t go feral from his self-isolation.
It felt like they were a proper family once more- light teasing and proper brotherly bickering occurring between the five of them, making sure to keep things at a level that was normal for siblings and a far cry from the vicious words they would throw Mammon’s way. They had all spent so long playing that eventually they had all fallen asleep together on or around Mammon’s couch with Belphie being the first to conk out for the night.
When they all awoke in the morning, Asmo told their brothers about the plan to help Mammon escape to the human world and about how they were going to be uncles.
“Let me go with you,” Beel responded eagerly, “If Lucifer finds out before you guys can get away, my strength will come in handy to buy you all a little time.”
“Beel, as much as I appreciate it, I can’t let you do that ta yourself.” Mammon says, a worried look in his blue and gold eyes. “Ya know what happens if ya stand against our brother’s authority. I mean look at what he did to Belphie when he went against Lucifer and Lord Diavolo over the exchange programme.”
“Yeah, locking me in the attic was a shitty move on his part but still, Lucifer is acting like a fucking tyrant.” Belphegor agreed. “I mean we’re all pretty scared of the monster he’s turning into, but what he’s doing to you is wrong. And we heard about the gaslighting incident at school yesterday. That was really fucked up- and you’re the favorite. Imagine what will happen to us after he finds out.”
The brothers all nodded at that.
“An’ that’s why I don’t want y’all doin’ it.” Mammon said sternly. “You two’re the youngest an’ while yer both strong in yer own right, the two of ya can’t hold a candle ta our brother.”
“What if Satan and I went along with you?” Levi asked, “Sure, Lucifer’s power output is over 9000 but Asmo, Satan, and I should be enough to at least match that for enough time for you and Solomon to get through the portal...”
“That would work.” Asmo nodded as they had a contemplative look on their face. “Actually, we’d stand a better chance if the twins go too.”
“You guys would really do this for me?” The Avatar of Greed looks around the room at all of his brothers before letting out a soft chuckle, “Guess Lucifer was right ‘bout one thing... you guys really do care.” He can’t help the tearful smile that creeps its way onto his features.
“Of course we do. We always did but we never showed it in the way we should have,” the fifth-born threw their arms around their older brother and was soon joined by their other brothers. “I mean we’re the ones who promised we’d change and we went back on that almost immediately.”
“We’re a family and you’re an important part of that too.” The Avatar of Envy says as they all press their foreheads together like they did back in the Celestial Realm before they went to war. “You keep things lively for us.”
“So it’s decided, right?” Beel asks, “We’re really going to do this? Together?”
“Together.” A sixth voice echoes from the upper level as the five of them pull away and turn their attention to Satan. He has a genuine smile on his face as he slides down on the railing of Mammon’s staircase like he used to do as a toddler. “Lucifer’s gone, by the way. Went up to the Demon Lord’s castle for a weekend meeting with Diavolo. If we’re going to make our move, it has to be tomorrow. So, everyone, get packed. I already booked four of us a hotel to stay at so Arella doesn’t have to put us up for however many months it is before the baby’s born. Asmo, you said you’d be staying with Solomon, right?”
“Right,” The Avatar of Lust nods. “Alright everyone, get ready.”
And just like that, the siblings dispersed to go about their packing.
-------------------------------------------------
Arella can’t wait. After hearing of the news from Solomon a few days ago, the excitement started to grow. What she didn’t know was if Mammon had found out if she was pregnant yet. What would his reaction be? Surprise? Excitement? Something else? Anxiety filled her as it had been doing over these past few months so she picks up her D.D.D. that no longer has service and opened up her photo gallery which also had little videos of her and Mammon together.
The sound of his voice is comforting to her. It makes things feel much less lonely in the silent house- even with Aubrie visiting- but it also has the added effect of helping their baby recognize his father’s voice. With the little one showing signs of being able to hear the outside world earlier than expected and hijacking her magic to protect them when he felt frightened, the last thing she needed was the sound of a voice he didn’t recognize setting off one of the many protective spells in her repertoire. His favourite thing to do was erect a magical barrier around them to keep a threat away. Thank heavens normal humans weren’t able to see things like that.
As she selected a video- one of all the brothers and her together at Diavolo’s birthday party last year- she set it on top of the small bump that she had started showing a couple weeks ago. She could feel her son’s powerful little kicks to the side of her womb.
“Easy now, little one. You’re going to cause bruising with kicks like that.” Arella says as she rubs a hand over the front of her belly and she feels a turning sensation shortly after. “You certainly are active this evening. Your Daddy’s coming back to us tomorrow, okay? And five of your uncles as well so don’t be scared when you hear their voices. They won’t hurt you or me. They may be demons but deep down they’re a good lot.”
As the video playing on the D.D.D ended, Arella picked up a children's book and began reading aloud to her unborn child.
“Rells, I’m going to go back to my hotel. Do you need anything before I go?” Aubrie asked as she leaned against the door frame. “I’ll be back tomorrow to help you out before the boys get here- tomorrow is the day, right?”
“I don’t need anything but yes, tomorrow’s the day.” Arella smiles.
“Oh, I bet you’re excited.” The ginger smiles. “Alright, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow.”
Arella only nodded as she watched Aubrie go.
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The House of Lamentation held a slight air of chaos to it this morning due to the brothers running around for last minute packing. They barely had time for breakfast but since Mammon had the least number of items to pack, he was voted for breakfast duty while Satan covered dish duty. Today’s breakfast: Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon. As everyone sat down to eat, there was constant chatter about things they would do while up in the mortal realm during the months they would be staying.
While they were cleaning up, Solomon made his appearance. Asmo welcomed him with a hug as they quickly pulled the sorcerer along to Mammon’s room to get him so they could go. They both watch as he doesn’t react to their entrance instead seeming lost in his thoughts as he runs his thumb over an old, worn piece of grimm. Not even calling his name was enough to pull him from his zoned-out state. It wasn’t until Solomon placed a careful hand on the second-born's shoulder that Mammon looked up at them.
“Are you ready to go?” Solomon asks with a smile.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” The demon returns the smile, “Whenever everyone else is ready...”
Soon the rest of the brothers join them and it's time to go. Everyone grabs their bags or suitcases and load them up in the van that had been rented for them. Solomon was in charge of driving them to their destination.
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#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me! shall we date?#obey me fluff#obey me mammon#mammon fluff#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me solomon
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