#Yes I Agree That Calm Ford is the Better Ford

[stupidvillainousposts]

Hats and Cloaks. It Seems Like a Lot of the People in the Gravity Falls Canon Are Kinda... I'll Say Not Very Observant. Even Outside of Gravity Falls; Obviously Not to the Extent of GF itself, but People Seem to Mind Their Business a Fair Amount

And we are currently witnessing a slow but sure Werewolf Ford Redemption Arc!

Not being pack leader is really helping him calm down; he's finally experiencing what it's like to be a wolf in a decently organized pack!

[vlassk]

KEEPER

P2

After learning of Stanleys past with Ford y/n decided she wouldn't be getting close to the twin. But I find it difficult as Ford is just so damn cute

Warning: age gap, angst, sorta 18+ MDNI Swearing. Pervy Ford(lmk if i missed any) not proof read as i no no wanna

You only ever have a few days off. This day was slow and calm as you sat in the shop with the Pines family. You were reading a book when the door slammed open. Ford stood in the doorway with an octopus looking creature around his arm

"Why bring it in here?" You get up as the kids do as well. Ford punches it, and it escapes scurrying around the floor.

"KILL IT KILL IT!!" Stan stands screams, hitting it with his newspaper. Ford runs through jumping across tables. The kids run over in excitement. You watch as hr corners yhe creature. Stunning it and capturing it.

Dipper runs up to him excited and asks if he could help. Ford happily turns him down, yelling him to call for dinner

"Have Y/n help!" Mable exclaims happily, pushing you towards the man.

"What, why me? I dont want to work with this grump. " You cross your arms, the child still trying to push you in. You look down as she smiles up at you.

"Hmm...that wouldnt be too bad, i heard from Stan that you are quite smart. It would be nice having a helping hand who might be able to handle everything. " Ford puts his hand to his chin, thinking on the proposition

"W-what? She doesn't even want to help cmon Please, i already know what the creature is!"

"It's far too dangerous for you, Dipper..y/n i know you dont like me, but what do you say?" Ford smiles excited at the thought of working with you.

Looking to stan you see him give a small nod. He stands up, walking towards you. Leaning in to wisper in your ear

"Dont get too close, okay kid..he's dangerous." You smile and pat his shoulder. You look at Ford and frown.

"Ok, fine, I'll help... but really, you BETTER call me for dinner, okay dip! Stan said he's going to make us a special dinner for Fords return..."

"Haha, Stanley Cooks?"

"Uh duh? He's a great cook. Well, when he does make food, he's great. " You laugh as you both go back into the basement. You close the door behind you, the smell of that creature filling the air

"Gosh, you couldn't have done a better job keeping that contained?" You plug your nose disgusted

"Why do you like it?" Ford chuckles at his own low joke. You make a gaging noise as you both reach the bottom of the stairs. Ford putting it away.

"So Stan told you about me, huh?" You sigh as you lean against a table

"Hmm? Oh yes, he seems very protective over you"

"Yeah. He's great. " You smile at yourself. Appreciating everything Stans done for you

You look around the small controll room. Not really knowing what you should do at all.

"...soo what got you into the paranormal and weird..." Ford tries making awkward conversation. Something you weren't here for.

"That's none of your concern." You continue to stare at the wall. Again, I do not know why you agreed to go here.

" What do you need my help with?" You sigh, sitting up again.

Ford looks around, looking for something for you to do. Then he stops.

"Well, i know you're smart, but i don't know how smart or what you can do..." he smirks and watches as you roll your eyes.

"You know that moving sas-quach?"

"Yeah"

"I made it. At first, it was just a costume with some fluff. But i made the code and the structure to make the animotronic. I also made the warmer and the vibrations in Stans favorite chair. I've made a lot of the improvements here. i do love puzzles and decoding things.." You talk more on your degree

"Improvements, huh..." Ford looks around the dusty old basement. Things broken and wires poking out

"So... could you fix those for me? While i work"

"I guess..." You sigh as you just dumped your whole college career, and he only focuses on how you fix things. Bending down to look for all the broken wires and technology, you dont see that Ford is staring at you. His eyes roam over your bent over the body. He feels his face heat up, so he turns away. Continuing to work.

After an hour of working, you sigh and lean back against one of the machines. Watching as the old man works. You sigh, hot from the work. You watch as Ford pushes his hair back. A frustrated look on his face as he continues to write. Standing up and walking towards the man, you lean forward, your chest touching his back. You feel him jump under you. A small laugh escapes your lips.

"You're doing that wrong.." You point to the top of the page "see thats supposed to be this number here.. gosh, you're supposed to be this smart guy, but mess up on something so simple"

"I-i never even noticed... and im still the Smart guy. One mistake doesn't disqualify me. " he fixes his mistake and smiles at the equation that now makes sense.

"You distracted or something, or are you just getting old?"

Ford scoffs. You stand up straight again, beginning to walk away. He turns to look at you. Annoyed at your attitude

"Why- Gosh, why can't we just get along?" He looks up at you

"You know why" You begin yo walk away. Not wanting to talk.

"No, i really dont. I've explained my whole backstory to you, and stan did as well, yet im the bad guy?"

"Yes, you are"

"You know wha-"

"What?"

"Gah! You're such a brat you think you know the whole story, but you dont. You dont know me!" Ford stands up, walking towards you angerly.

"I don't have to know you to know that Stan would cry at the thought of you. The fact that it eats him that he caused you to fly into that protal and it ate him every day after! Do you think i didn't know the whole story before you came along Stanford? All that changed was the names for me. " You push the man," he stumbles back.

" And you trusted that ass hole Bill?! Let him use you. Gosh, men really are something he was always out to get you. You refused to explain to stan got kicked into a multi dimensional portal, and when He brings you back, you punch him!" You push him more a bit harder.

Ford stumbles back more, having enough he grabs onto you and turns you around, pinning your arms behind your back like he did to stan

" He ruined my life, okay? MY life, he ruined my project. Costed me my whole life, you wouldn't know because you got into that damn school!" Ford shakes you slightly, not realizing his violence or the position he put you in.

" You still got everything you wanted, no? You still got all your PHDs and to study in this stupid town!" You struggle beneath him, trying to have him let go. You accidentally grind against him without thinking or realizing it. Ford lets you go, stumbling back to lean on another machine. You turn around, getting ready to punch the man when he catches your fist, his face getting darker shades of red by the second

"I'm...im sorry..."he tries to think of anything to change subject."You're right. i-i got everything i ever dreamed... i couldn't even let you correct my work"

Your arm goes limp. You drop your hand and watch as Ford coveres his face

"I'm sorry for well, putting you in that position... for everything. " Ford drops his head, his face still hiden. His attempt to hide his red face, praying you don't look down.

You sigh, turning around. You shake your head, not knowing what to say. You turn back to see Ford, his face still covered. Your eyes move down, his red sweater covered him. Your eyes moved lower. Your body is still turned around, and you see his pants, a small tent was forming. You look away quickly, your own face red

" Stanford, i-...Hahahaaa listen, it's okay, i can't promise we will be besties after all this, but i definitely feel better about ya." You remember the position you were in. It was fine when you were angry he just apprehended you, but now you're thinking about how it would be if it wasn't angry... you laugh hysterically.

"Really..? Just like that. "

"Yup! But you should apologize to stan" you try changing the subject.

"Absolutely not.."

"Ford!" You finally turn around seeing him finally

"No listen, I'll admit it to you, but not him okay, leave it at that kid," he uncoveres his face. Now recovered. He sighs in relief that you didn't see his problem.

" Kid? Im not a kid. You're just old. " You poke his chest. Turning to look at his work table

" You litt-" Before he could finish, Dipper fell through the ceiling. Knocking over the octopus looking creature.

You look as the kid crawls by the creature and to his book

"Dipper, stop!"

" Great, Uncle Ford!"

"Did you just fall through the cieling..." You look up at the hole

"What did i say about coming down here"

"My work is far too dangerous for a single living soul to spend even one second-"

"Am i dead now or..." You sigh being ignored still. You see how stern Ford got. You feel slight attraction to him.

"Wait, is that a 38-sided die from dungeons dungeons and more dungeons?!"

"Yeah! Y-you know that game?!"

" with pen and paper shield and sword... " Ford starts

"Our quest shall be our sweet reward!" The two shout in unison. They laugh softly together. You laugh at their repeat of the quote, finding it cute. You think back at the potition you were in before. You felt your face blush.

"This is my favorite game in the whole multi-verse. I can't believe they still make it"

"They do, and I've been looking all day for someone to play with me"

You watch the Two talk as the octopus slowly slithers away. You rise a leg in disgust as you avoid its path. You see Ford bend down. Holding the book excitedly. The creature jumps onto his face, and Ford pulls it off, still happy as ever.

"Y/n, do you want to play with us!" Dipper turns to you. His excited face warms your heart

"I haven't played since college... so i might be rusty, but sure, I'll play"

"Awesome!!" Dipper runs upstairs.

Ford turns around to look at you. A confused look on his face

"You play Dd&Md?"

"Yeah, duh, it's been a while, but i liked it. I just got busy. " You toy with your hair looking away

"I know how that is, i used to have a campaign of my own in college," Father puts away the octopus, placing it on top of a shelf.

"Ya know, Ford, it was kinda hot seeing you all stern." You laugh as you start walking upstairs. Ford is left a stuttering mess, trying to compose himself before he walks upstairs.

You go to your room to grab your old things. A small box contains a small bag with your die. The rest of the items is a small journal with your notes on your character. You head downstairs telling Stan about the game you three are about to play. He gets a bit angry. You go to the basement and see Dipper and Ford already sitting down. As the game starts, Ford gets into character, fluttering his eyelashes, and the dipper gets the first roll, as you both tell Ford about the change in art styles during the 90s.

"Great-uncle Ford, I've been meaning to ask you: where were you before you came out of that machine, and what have you been doing down here? Are you working on something behind that curtain?" Dipper points to the curtain behind Ford.

"Dipper, it's best if you and the family stay away from that subject. Honestly, I'm not sure any of you could handle the real answer." Ford says, setting up straight.

"But, but I can handle it"

"Dipper, just respect it, okay? i dont know either. " You pat the boys back.

"Ah-ah! But I can show you a little something I brought back with me, an infinity-sided die"

"Woah... that's so cool. And... impossible!" Dipper gets excited again.

"What even..." You lean back against the machines

You both listen to Fords explanation. A worry washes over your face. As Ford plays like nothing was talked about. Hours later, the session ends. Mable gets you for dinner, and you all head up. Finding stan cooking.

"How was the nerd game, ya nerds hahaha"

"It was fine, grunkle stan." dipper sits down

"No, really, it was. You would never play with me, so im glad Ford and Dipper invited me"

"Ya know, im starting to remember you asking me to play with you some years ago..." stan pushes you out of the kitchen, getting plates for you and the kids

"Thank you stan"

"Anything for you, chump." stan sits down, patting mable and dipper on the head as he passes you.

Ford inspects the food and takes a bite. I was surprised at how good it tastes.

Stan watches him eat the food. Pleased by the reaction.

"So how was working in the basement with my brother y/n"

"It was fine. He made me fix some of the old wiring. Some of the machines should be running better now, ford, " you say in-between bites

"Good, see chump, i told ya. Working here wouldn't ignore your talents!" Stan laughed. You just smiled and looked at your food.

"Ya know if you'd like, i could probably need more help. Im sure you have lots more to offer besides mechanical help. Why dont you work with me? still helping stan out, though."

"What, you can't steal, my girl!"

"Well, look at it this way. She's still staying here, and you said to yourself that working here would be a great opportunity. Well, now that opportunity is expanding, and she will get to show off her skills"

"But it's dangerous. Geez Ford, i told you to stay away"

"Listen, im all for taking cautions with the kids, but Y/n is grown and could actually be very helpful to me and my research." Ford places his hands on the table.

"I could help too! I've read all of your journals!" Dipper yaps about mable just laughs at his needyness

"Absolutely not." they both day in unison.

"Actually Stan i wouldn't mind so much. I still dont really like him, but i might get to do something with my degrees. " You finish up your good, watching as stan scratches the back of his head. You stand up and take everyones plates. Washing them when you see stan walk in with Ford.

"Let me help, kid," stan lends you, a hand putting away the dishes as you wash and rinse. He huffs and complains, like he didn't offer to help

"I'm no kid, Old Stan..." You smile scrubbing off any sauce.

"I know...its just, ive known you for a bit now and you've treated me so well, last thing i eant to do is have you get hurt from me not protecting you. Especially from him.." he looks behind him, seeing Ford look through all the spices.

"Yeah, i do appreciate you, but you aren't my dad, and that's okay!" You see the sadness when you say it. Regretting the words

"Stanley. You're my best friend! I'm glad you aren't my dad because you dont have to deal with the hard daughter responsibilities. Ya know, if i ever get married, it'll be SUPER expensive, and you dont want this bill. " You nudge him, making the old man laugh.

"Yeah, i guess that's true," Stan laughs.

"Sooo true. And! If you were my dad there would be awful expections, like Y/n why dont you go back to doing your original plan, y/n dont poke that gnome, y/n stop stealing snacks from the shop. Ya know?"

"You what!?" Stan looks over to you

"Haha, seeeee," you throw some bubbles at him. He sighs. Cleaning off his glasses.

"Do you want to work with him?"

"Yeah, why not? Maybe I'll learn more about you guys as kids?"

"Haha, i hope not, i know im not your dad, and it's hard not to make the connection after so long. But fine, we are best friends, and I'd never do anything to stop that. Now get ready for bed you've got work tomorrow!" You both finish up, you rushing upstairs to get ready for bed.

Stanley turns around, looking at his brother, who's toying with different items.

"Let's sleep, you nerd," stan pats his shoulder as he walks away.

You walk past the kids' room. Hearing them talk. Smiling as you go off to bed.

The next day you get up and gey ready. Seeing that your new boss is setting up DD&MD with dipper in the living room

"Hey y/n wanna play again?"

"What about work"

"This ... this is work?" Ford looks up at you

"Sure," you roll your eyes. Seeing Ford smile with excitement.

You run upstairs to grab your stuff, hurrying back down, and you start the campaign. Stan walking in annoyed at Ford, you see Mables disappointment about her movie. Stan walks over, trying to take pages off the Tv. Ford grabs his hand

"Move that and pay the price" ford tightens his grip

"Oh, what 50 magical dwaf dollars?" Stan snatches his arm, moving them around

"Dont mock our fantastical monetary system!"Ford yells, letting go of stan

"I'll mock all i want. it's my tv room"

"It's my house you- listen Stanley, did it ever accur to you that if you join us, you might actually have fun?" He holds up his dice bag.

Stan gets angry, throwing the dice bag on the floor. Opening the case for the infinity-sided die. Granting the characters to come to life. Ford tries to fight them off, but they grab you three and leave. It feels like the adventure took all day. Maybe it was because you were so small for so long.

Ford takes dipper to the basement to talk. You wait upstairs to be called on. After a couple minutes, you see dipper leave saying goodnight and going to his room. You head downstairs, seeing stan leaning against his desk.

"I didn't know you were going to work tonight"

"Work is work at any time." You laugh going towards Ford to look at his work. He blushes at your closness. Still embarrassed about the day before.

"Hey...so i have a question"

"What is it?"

"When Bill took over your body. Did others not know it, wasn't you?"

"No one really knew but my journal..."Ford laughs a bit

" He's gotten sloppy..." You press your finger to your chin.

"What do you mean"

"Well, when Dipper was possessed, i knew right away. Bill ran off, though, had to go on stage, and the kids wouldn't let me on. I was late, though, if only i had talked to Dipper sooner that day"

"Y-you could spot him?!"

"Well, duh, it's so obvious he's such a weirdo, i mean no offense, i read yall had a thing going on, but he was noooot it. Such a creep. " You squint your eyes,looking at the drawing of Bill.

"You read my journal?!" He covered his mouth quickly shutting his journal.

"Yeah, Dipper showed me..."

He takes the book and walks away towards his room. Shutting the door.

You run to the door, knocking on it

"Ford...what the hell we gatta work!"

"No work tonight im tired"

"What? No Ford!" You knock on the door again a bit harder. He opens the door. You accidentally knocked on his chest. You look up at him, his face is red, and his eyes dart anywhere but you.

"Ford, are you embarrassed of your lifes work"

He looks at you. Pushing you away from the door. He shuts the door, but you put your foot in the way before he can. A small ow escapes your lips as he opens the door again

"Y/n im so sorry!!" He watches as he holds your foot

"Why are you embarrassed..." you lean against the door frame, slowly putting your foot down.

"I-i dont know, but i am. Listen, im... im sorry for walking out, i dont know, " he rubs the back of his neck. You see the red on his face still. You lean against the door, putting your feet on the other side, locking him in his small room. That was just a small couch with some blankets.

"So, no work tonight?" You look over at Ford, who now moved, sit on hid bed. He leans back his arm, resting on the couch. You look away at the rest of the lab. All the glowing machines and the cloth cover the window. You focus on every detail.

Ford focuses on you. Taking in your form, your hair, the way you relax against the door. He knew he shouldn't feel the way he did about you. But it's been 30 years since he had any connection. 30 years of being by himself. He gets lost in his thoughts.

"Ford?...ford!" He snaps back, noticing you're gone. He turns to look around seeing you next to him.

"No... no work tonight. im tired.." Ford leans back again, closing his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts.

"Okay, Ford...and im sorry about calling you out on Bill. i know you did your best. That monster won't get to us anymore. " You get up to leave. He looks to you

"Goodnight...y/n"

"Goodnight Ford," you wave your hand and leave the basement.

[ragingbookdragon]

For What The Soul Yearns

Lindir of Rivendell x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: I mean the elf is obviously gay my dudes -Thorne

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

Lindir rides as gracefully as he sings, he comes to realize as they ride through the Ford of Bruinen. Lindir sits atop a sheer, golden steed, the hair of the horse shining in the sunlight as the elf leads it through the water of the stream. He, on the other hand, favored the black horse, something about the look in the giant’s eyes that said We are one in the same, had drawn him to it. He leads Lindir to an open expanse of trees, a secluded little area just near the edge of the Misty Mountains.

He's off first, helping the blushing elf down from his own saddle before they take a stroll, confident that the horses will simply graze in the nearby field while they take their time. He offers Lindir his arm, trying not to smile as giddily as he feels when the elf takes it and looks away with a smile of his own. The scent of pine fills the air, autumn brings the fall of auburn needles and ruby leafage.

Lindir looks radiant in the purple robe he wears. A different type of clothing than his usual garments, the plum-colored robe accentuates the hidden muscle of his slender shoulders, a leather belt tied around his narrow waist, with dark brown leather pants and boots to match. The robe, of course, in elven fashion does go to his shins, but it’s split up on either side of his leg to allow for better movement.

He had gone with his usual armor, could never be too cautious, but he did spend the entire afternoon shining it until the silver reflected his face back at him—and he last minute switched out his usual red cloak for a deep eggplant colored one. Which if by the earlier look on Lindir’s face when he saw the same color he usually wore meant anything, he was pleased, beyond, in fact. He did, however, forgo the helm.

It’s a few minutes of walking through knee-high, yellowed grass before they reach a spot where the grass is low enough that they can rest in it, and they do exactly that; he, sitting with one leg curled in towards himself while the other foot is planted firmly on the ground, elbow resting on his knee. Lindir sits in a slanted fashion, knees bent at an angle as his boots brush his rear from where he’s pulled them back to.

The evening is calm, a soft fall breeze shakes a few leaves loose from the trees above, drifting through the air without a care in the world. The evening sun sets far below in the valley, and they watch as the shadow stretches across the land. It’s peaceful here, just the two of them. There aren’t a million things to be paid attention to that draw either of them in numerous directions. There is simply the space between and the slow cooling of the evening as the sun sets.

He isn’t entirely sure what he wants to say to Lindir, but he decides, staring into the blooded image of the sun is best as he murmurs, “I almost thing I could sit here forever.”

Lindir nods quietly beside him, replying quietly as to not disturb the silence around them, “It feels as though all responsibility is far.”

“Because it is,” he jokes, smiling as the elf beside him chuckles under his breath and nods knowingly. Then, as the humor fades, the look of sadness comes over Lindir’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You will eventually return to Lórien in the coming days.”

“Yes,” he agrees, understanding the sudden stop in the elf’s happiness. “I do still have my responsibility to Lady Galadriel. As you do to Lord Elrond.” He looks down at his right hand, quietly undoing the straps of the gauntlet before he pulls the silver glove off; reaching over, he takes Lindir’s hand in his own, calloused thumb brushing over velvet smooth skin. “But just because there is distance, does not mean I will stop thinking about you. Nor will it ever manage to bury the ever-burning desire to be beside you.”

He feels Lindir’s pulse jump a little faster when he brushes his pinky over the veins in his wrist. “You will think of me?”

“Every moment I am away from you,” he confesses, gazing at him. “It perhaps is too early to know or even divulge such a deep feeling, Lindir, but my soul yearns to be connected with yours in ways that nothing can ever untangle us from one another.” He lets go of Lindir’s hand, reaching up to gently take the elf’s chin in his grip, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip; Lindir’s lips part at the rough drag of his thumb, a breathless gasp escaping him as his heart thunders in his chest. “Lindir, I love you. And I want to be with you until the end of time.”

Lindir’s breath is warm against his skin, and the poor man tries for words but all that comes out is a pitiful croak, and he breaks into laughter as Lindir’s cheeks practically turn as red as the sun before them. “Stop laughing at me!” he whines out, but he is laughing too hard to even manage an attempt at stopping, collapsing back into the grass.

It is, a moment of happening a look at Lindir’s grumpy expression that has him calming his laughter and he rubs his silver-plated abdomen. “My stomach hurts.”

“Serves you right,” Lindir retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, looking into the sky. “It is not polite to laugh.”

He watches Lindir for a moment before reaching behind the elf and tugs at the end of his braid, waiting until he looks down. “Lay with me,” he encourages and Lindir’s expression breaks from the moodiness to pure contentment as he shifts forward and lays back, head tucked in the crook of his arm where the cloth covers his shoulder. Lindir shifts, gently resting his arm over his stomach and he reaches over with his gauntleted hand, a comforting weight resting on the elf’s forearm. His ungloved hand plays with a few stray strands of Lindir’s hair as they stare up at the slowly starring sky.

“We will need to go back to Rivendell soon,” Lindir murmurs, though the elf sounds as unwilling as he feels.

“In time,” he replies, turning to look at him. “I want to enjoy this time I have with you.”

Lindir gazes at him, heart in his throat as he asks, “You will send letters my way, yes?”

“I will send you so many letters that you will not have a place to put them.” He smiles, wanting to dispel the sadness. “Your room will overflow with letters from me. They’ll pour from the windows.” Lindir’s laugh eases the tension and he resettles himself on his shoulder, shutting his eyes as he lets the peace wash over him.

Yes, they will definitely need to return to Rivendell before true nightfall, but for now, they will enjoy one another’s company.

[healeroflightanddark]

Trappings of the Heart, Chapter 2: Dipper's Return

Mabel’s POV

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads!” I called out, running down the stairs of the Mystery Shack. Grunkel Stan and Grunkel Ford were already in the kitchen making breakfast. “No time for breakfast! Dipper’s going to be here any minute!”

“It’s only eight in the morning,” Grunkel Stan said. “Doesn’t his bus get here at what… three in the afternoon?”

“You never know, it could be early!” I replied. “It could even be arriving right now! We gotta move! We can’t let Dipper wait at the bus stop all alone!”

“The probability of his bus arriving seven hours early are extremely low,” Grunkel Ford said, flipping a pancake in the frying pan. “A better use of our time would be making sure everything is ready for him when he gets here.”

“Yes, I should check on his room and make sure it’s clean!” I agreed, running out of the kitchen to Dipper’s room. Before Dipper and I came back to Gravity Falls the second time, our grunkels had renovated the house so that we could both have our own rooms as teenagers. We got to decorate them how we liked too! My room was covered in glittery wallpaper and fairy lights, while Dipper’s had lots of bookcases full of books. There were a few things out of place in Dipper’s room, so I quickly sorted them out until it was spotless.

*   *   *

Dipper’s POV

I looked out the bus window, watching the scenery pass. I was so nervous, but I didn’t know why. I usually loved going back to Gravity Falls. But right now my gut was telling me that it was a big mistake, that I should run back home.

I couldn’t just go home though. I was so close to Gravity Falls. Besides, I had already called Mable to let her know I was coming, so I was kinda stuck. Not to mention I was still having those nightmares. I wanted to talk to Great-Uncle Ford about them. If anyone would know what to do, he would.

As the bus crossed over the border of Gravity Falls, my whole body suddenly went calm. It was like I could feel the town’s weirdness, and it was oddly soothing. I didn’t feel nervous anymore, and the feeling that I should run home was suddenly gone.

Maybe Gravity Falls was calling me back with those nightmares. I still wanted to talk about it with Great-Uncle Ford though. As the bus pulled up to the bus stop, I could see him, Grunkel Stan, and Mabel waiting for me.

Surely things would be fine. I mean, I hadn’t had any real problems in Gravity Falls since Weirdmaggedon. What could possibly go wrong?

*   *   *

? POV

Here he is, finally back where I can reach him! It was a lot of work getting him here, but now he’s well within my grasp! Soon I’ll be able to put my plan into action!

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬

AN: Massive thank you to my dearest @fromyourstrulyh​ who helped me sm with this chapter! Love you tons, Jess 🐚✨

Monday, 15 June

Fore Street wasn’t particularly busy this early in the morning. People were driving to work, and others were strolling by near the road, leaving the main shopping street of St Ives almost deserted. The bright yellow early morning sun peeked over the rooftops of the stone cottages, casting some of the street in a tad too chilly shadow and the other half in cool sunshine. Having just had breakfast with Bessie, Y/N was strolling along the cobblestoned street, relishing in the calmness at the start of the week.

Wearing her satin pleated forest green midi skirt, a white tee shirt and white Vans, Y/N was a little cold, but her walk wasn’t a long one. She walked by Vintage Divine a few times, but never gone inside, today that was going to change. With her tote bag at the ready in her purse, Y/N entered the vintage shop, quickly noticing she was the second customer there. She strolled on over to what looked to be a rack of dresses and long skirts. She had absolutely nothing else to do all day so she could spend all of it in here, she didn’t care. She’d most likely enjoy her time there very much.

Capital was being played over the speaker, and though Y/N wasn’t sure that was the kind of vibe a vintage shop had, she loved it regardless. It had been so long since she’d been in a vintage shop, and never had she had the privilege of buying something without having people inspect her finds when she got home. She was sure she walked around for an hour, maybe even a bit longer, before she recognised the voice talking behind the till.

Looking over, she saw Florence, one of the ladies in Bessie’s little knitting circle. She picked up the red and pink headband she’d been looking at before making her way toward her. When their eyes met, Y/N gave Florence a wide grin that she returned, waving Y/N over.

“Would you look at that? Speak of the devil, ey, Camila?” Florence said, gesturing at Y/N. A woman around the same age glanced at Y/N over the rim of her glasses, raising her eyebrows as she studied her.

“This is her?”

“Sure is.”

“Oh, my word, what an absolute beauty. Why Harry kept you away for so long is a mystery.”

“Aww,” Y/N chuckled. “Thanks. More to do with privacy than anything else, I suppose.”

“You know,” Florence said as she started scanning the items Y/N wanted to buy. “We were just saying, the person who most needs a partner right now is Harry.”

“Yeah, that lad’s been stuck in that lighthouse ever since his father died. It’s very sad,” Camila went on, making a point of looking at both Y/N and Florence over her glasses to see them clearly. “Maybe you can break him out of his shell a bit. Think having someone like you who can take him out will be good for him.”

“Harry likes being on his own.”

“That’s right,” Florence went on after Y/N, looking at Camila. “Y/N is living at the Crab Inn. At Bessie’s.”

Camila gasped. “He won’t even let her stay at his house?”

Y/N didn’t know why the two women were talking about her like she wasn’t there. Clearing her throat some, she said, “We don’t want to overwhelm each other. We haven’t stayed together for more than a few days before.”

“But don’t new couples bunny out in the first phase of their relationship?” Camila was as blunt as she was almost blind, Y/N thought.

This took Y/N off guard and she forced a breathy chuckle out, bringing a few quid out to pay Florence. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Camila looked to Florence and Florence only shrugged, Y/N didn’t know if that meant Florence agreed with Y/N or Camila.

“Harry’s a handsome bloke, there’s no reason-“

“Have you at least been to the lighthouse?” Florence asked to speak over Camila, giving Y/N a friendly smile. Y/N appreciated Florence stepping in when she sensed Camila taking it a bit too far.

Y/N nodded, probably a bit too frantically. “Yes, quite a few times.”

“Harry won’t let anyone to the top, says it breaks some rule or something,” Florence said.

“Think it’s just him and his family being a bit selfish, if you ask me,” Camila went on.

“Oh, now you’re being proper arsey, Camila.” Florence only sighed before turning her attention back on Y/N. “Been to the top yet?”

“First place he took me.”

“Of course,” Florence smiled. “See you around, darling.”

“Bye, Florence. Bye, Camila.” Y/N waved at the both of them, walking on out of Vintage Divine and on her way back to the Inn. She felt her heart racing quickly with the lies she’d just told. How could she be fake dating the lighthouse keeper and not have been to the lighthouse yet? Though she hated to lie like that, she reminded herself that the reason she was doing it was to get people off Harry’s back. He seemed like such a genuine lad; she’d do anything to help him. But lying about something she could so quickly change by just taking a walk to the lighthouse seemed silly.

Wednesday, 17 June

Y/N had never been this close to a lighthouse. She’d watched them from afar, never really given them any proper thought. They were an essential part of navigation at sea, but she had no idea how they worked, and until a few days ago, she hadn’t given thought to how they were operated either. She didn’t think lighthouse keepers were a thing anymore, let alone that they even lived in the lighthouse still. Maybe they lived in town and occasionally spent time in the lighthouse, but surely, they didn’t live there.

However, as Y/N walked along the gravel road leading up to Clodgy Lighthouse, that seemed to be the case. It was an elegant white building. Strangely the lighthouse looked like it hadn’t endured a single storm in the decades Y/N knew it had stood there. That therefore made her draw the conclusion that Harry was the one keeping this lighthouse under pristine and incredible conditions. It shone in the sunbeams shining down on it. At the very top, surrounding the beacon at the top of the lighthouse, there was black fencing, so Y/N guessed one could sit out there and get a pretty grand view of the St Ives Bay. Well, not all of it, but a pretty good 360 shot regardless.

Beside the tall white building, stood a one-storey hut. It was white as well, matching transparent embroidered curtains hanging from all the windows Y/N could see from her vantage-point on the gravel road. They were neatly tucked to the side, letting natural daylight stream in through the windows and in on what she assumed to be Harry’s house. It was rectangular, with a dark blue door in the middle of one of the shorter lengths of the house. In front of what looked to be a pebbled driveway sat an old yellow Ford Econoline, a very out-there car for someone who was so incredibly shy.

She did a 360, looking about the open moor that surrounded her. It was completely empty, with no one living near the lighthouse, and St Ives a 40-minute walk from here. It must be equally liberating and lonely, Y/N thought, not sure if she could muster living all by herself like this. But Harry seemed to be just the guy for this job.

Different coloured flowers were strewn around the lighthouse and Harry’s cottage, wild and untamed. It didn’t seem like Harry bothered cutting the grass around his house either, just mainly around the lighthouse, probably for better access, Y/N had no idea. However, upon closer inspection, all types of insects flew to and from all the flowers and plants, zooming away once Y/N hunched down and picked two flowers she didn’t know the name of. She liked the fact that the bees could roam around the little field without problem. They were welcomed and encouraged to stay. Y/N didn’t know if this was Harry’s intention, but she liked to think it was. She’d always wanted to get into gardening, but she’d never had the time.

The door to the cottage opened and Harry came to view, taking a few steps outside to see what Y/N was doing by the ground. She stood, smiling and waving as she made her way over to him. He wore a pair of tapered retro black jeans, cuffed at the ankles, along with a loose fitted white, orange and blue shirt, one part of the front tucked into his jeans. His feet were bare, and his hair was a mess. It looked like she’d caught him off guard.

“Hiya,” Y/N smiled, walking closer. “Good morning.”

“Ehm…” Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. While doing so it was as if he remembered he hadn’t styled it this morning, hurriedly trying to make it look somewhat decent without the help of a mirror. “Morning.”

“Did I startle you?”

“What? Oh! No, no, I…” He trailed off, pointing through the door with his thumb but letting his hand fall to his thigh, hitting it lightly. “Just drinking me morning cuppa reading the  paper.”

“I’ve been up since 7, so I haven’t really done much besides eat and then walk here.”

Harry nodded, and for a few seconds, the two were left in silence as they just looked at one another. Neither knew what to say, or even what to talk about. They didn’t know what they had in common, or if they had anything in common at all. Y/N just knew she wanted to get to know the   man she was supposed to be in a relationship with this summer. Coming to visit his lighthouse and home seemed like a good thing to do. She didn’t know what Harry was thinking, but by the blank look he was giving her, she was starting to regret coming here at all.

However, that was not going to stop her. If they wanted to make this work, she didn’t want to make it awkward for them by not knowing how to act around Harry when they were around people.

“So,” she started, walking past Harry and his van. “This is the tall, pointy house you were referring to the other day.”

Harry followed her towards the lighthouse, unbothered by the gravel under his bare feet. “Yeah, it draws attention, doesn’t it?”

Y/N giggled. “How much time do you spend keeping it clean? It doesn’t look weather-beaten at all. Would’ve thought lighthouses to be in much worse conditions.”

“Trinity House comes and does a thorough clean about once a year, but I do most of the work myself. As long as the sailors can tell this is Clodgy Lighthouse, then it’s fine.”

She paused. “Trinity House?”

“The official authority of lighthouses in the UK.”

“Ahh!” She nodded. “And how do sailors know this is Clodgy?”

Harry pointed at it, referring to the entire thing with a sweeping up and down hand motion. “From the sea, a lighthouse may be identified by the distinctive shape or colour of its structure, by the colour or flash pattern of its light, or by the coded pattern of its radio signal,” he explained and the more he talked, the more Y/N could detect a northern accent. “When ships pass here, they’ll know it’s Clodgy by the pattern of the beacon, as well as the fact it’s completely white. Others may be other colours, for example white and red stripes. But Clodgy’s always been white, I couldn’t really change it if I wanted to. Not that I do.”

That was the most she’d ever heard Harry speak, from what she knew about him so far he wasn’t much of a talker. Too nervous and shy by nature, it seemed.

“I didn’t think of that before.”

“You also didn’t think they were operated by lightkeepers anymore.”

Y/N gasped, smiling at Harry as he tore his eyes away from her, his dimples showing as he glanced to the ground again. “He’s got bants.”

Harry chuckled. “Career in stand-up comedy next.”

She laughed, walking around the lighthouse and looking about the cliffs. They were steep, looking right down on big rocks that made up most of the Clodgy Point where the lighthouse was positioned. Harry was standing a fair distance away, leaning against the white building with his hands in his jean pockets. Because of the constant wind, Y/N walked closer and leaned against the lighthouse as well, studying the landscape and the ocean before them.

“I’ve mostly seen masonry and brick lighthouses, this is concrete,” she said, not wanting their conversation to die out this early. She’d just gotten here. Maybe lighthouses weren’t their main concern seeing as they needed to establish their relationship before facing other people, but it seemed to be what Harry was most comfortable speaking about and she wanted him to feel comfortable around her.

“Concrete and steel are the most widely used materials,” he said. “Concrete especially makes for an aesthetically pleasing design for shore-based lighthouses.”

“Shore-based? There are different kinds. I mean, I always thought lighthouses would be out on islands rather than on land.”

“Yeah, there are-“ He stopped himself, looking at her to his right and meeting her eyes for a few seconds. “I won’t bore you with lighthouse facts.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t wanna know.”

He bit his lips together, turning to face the sea again. “Right.”

She continued to watch him, waiting patiently for him to find the right words to speak again.

He cleared his throat and went on. “There are two types of lighthouses, yeah? Those located on land and those located offshore. A land lighthouse like this one-“ Harry knocked on the concrete wall behind him. “-Its job is to aid navigation over land rather than water. They’re usually constructed in areas of flatland where the featureless landscape and prevailing weather conditions might cause travellers to get disoriented or lost. A tower like this is therefore visible for miles.”

“Makes sense.” Y/N nodded, glancing up at the house as Harry continued.

“Offshore lighthouses are the ones you seem to think of, they’re far from land. Reasons for them being built in that specific area can be ‘cause of a shoal, a reed, or a submerged island several miles from land. They’re there to warn sailors they’re close to dangerous territory, basically.”

“You know so much about this stuff.”

“It’s my job.”

Y/N laughed, maybe a little too loudly but she found it funny, so she didn’t see a reason to be embarrassed or excuse her loud exclamation of joy. “That explains your obsession.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes for a second before glancing at his bare feet. “What’s yours?”

“My job?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Now it was her turn to not want to meet his eyes. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, it was just that her answer was so boring. Maybe even a little unusual, especially for someone who should’ve been in the middle of finishing uni right about now. “I don’t have one.”

“You doing uni then?”

“Nope.”

That got Harry to shut up. It was clear he didn’t know what other questions to ask after that. What did you ask someone who didn’t have a job and didn’t go to uni without sounding disrespectful or degrading? He glanced away, pursing his lips as he fell silent again.

“My Mum was a stay-at-home Mum, so I was kind of expected to end up the same way. Trained for it my whole life and all.”

“You don’t want to do that?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “I mean, it would be perfect in a sense ‘cause I could read all the time, but I don’t want to spend eternity reading, you know what I mean?”

“Know exactly what you mean.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t like reading?”

“It’s not something I do very often, no.”

“Boring.”

Harry chuckled.

“It’s fun,” Y/N said, trying to sound convincing, but she was sure that if some people didn’t like to read, she wasn’t about to force them to buy a book and read it. “Anyway, I got this one dream a few years back, but it’s silly, really.”

Just then, the same ringing tone she’d heard from Harry’s phone before sounded from his pocket again. He cursed under his breath and brought his phone up, looking at the screen for a few seconds as if reading something before shoving it into his pockets again.

“I…” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“No, if you have to take that, it’s no big deal.”

“It’s nothing, no one’s calling me-“ But he was interrupted by the ringing sounding again. He brought his phone out and brought it up to his upper right arm before checking it again, sighing before looking at Y/N. He gave her an apologetic smile before motioning back to the house. “Gotta get back in there.”

“That’s fine,” she said, really meaning it.

Harry nodded, biting at his bottom lip as the two of them walked back in silence. The wind was still harsh, but Y/N guessed that was because of the flat landscape and the ocean being right there. She was used to wind, but not as constant as this.

“Listen,” Harry said as they reached his front door that he’d left open. “I’m so sorry about the whole fake relationship thing. I feel like I pushed it on you, and you don’t really wanna do it. You don’t have to do it-“

“-I genuinely don’t have anything else to do all summer. I think it’d be fun.”

Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. She could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Right, yeah.”

“We good?”

“Yeah, I just want to make it clear that we can break this off whenever. If it hadn’t been for me and my lie, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s honestly fine. It’ll keep my otherwise dull summer eventful and it’ll help you out. Think it works out fine, we just have to establish our relationship a bit so we don’t go around telling stories that contradict one another.”

His smile grew some. “Smart. We should definitely just sit down and figure it out.”

“What’s your number?” she asked, walking over to him with her phone in her hand. He reached for it, meeting her eyes to ask if it was fine that he grabbed for it. She gave him a little smile; he took it and typed his number into her phone. “Just so we can get a hold of one another and figure everything out. I’ll send you a text so you get mine.”

He kissed his teeth for a second or two and gave her phone back to her before saying so quickly Y/N barely understood what he was getting at, “Would you mind coming to Gracie’s birthday party on Saturday?”

Y/N remembered Jessa and Grace inviting her when she met them a few days prior, but she hadn’t thought about it till now. Harry’s brows were knitted together, something that resembled worry on his face as if he expected her to turn him down.

“Yes, of course! When? Oh!” Y/N jumped a little, suddenly experiencing a jolt of excitement rolling through her. “Has she got a list of things she wants for her birthday? I should get her a present.”

“You really don’t have to,” Harry said, but he was smiling.

“I think I do, and I love shopping.”

Harry’s smile widened and he looked at the pebbles under Y/N’s feet. “I’ll pick you up at 2pm on Saturday, then. It’s on the family farm, just a five-minute drive from town.”

“That sounds so lovely.”

“It’s the best place on earth,” Harry agreed, staying quiet for a couple more seconds before he seemed to remember why the two had walked back to his house in the first place. He shook his head quickly, clearing his throat and taking a step closer to the door. “Right, I’m sorry I can’t hang out more today. I got to… work.”

“That’s completely fine, I’ll talk to you later. You know where to find me.” She deliberately used that last sentence as he’d used it when they last parted ways, and it seemed Harry recognised that as well. He met her eyes as she started walking backward, giving her a genuine smile, one of his dimples showing. She waved her bouquet of two wildflowers, hearing Harry’s phone ring again as she turned around to walk off, and then his front door shutting quickly after.

Saturday, 20 June

Two different massive books lay on the desk in front of Y/N, one a little bigger than the other. She wasn’t sure which one was better to get her started, she hadn’t researched that before buying them at the Waterstones at home in Hampshire. All she knew was that they would both help make her achieve the same thing: master the UCAT exam. She hadn’t signed up for it yet, didn’t know when the next one was, but she knew that before she did that, she had to study first. But which one of the massive books was she supposed to open first?

The University Clinical Aptitude Test was used by most UK Universities on top of general applications, and academic qualifications, for their medical and dental programs. It aimed to help Universities select applicants with the most appropriate skills and attributes required to be a successful doctor or dentist. It was a test that Y/N, who was usually good at not stressing herself out, was sure would make her very nervous.

Her parents had never been interested in her achievements at school. They were sure she’d end up like her mother, and quite liked the fact she’d picked up reading and that she read as she did. It was an intellectual and quiet hobby they thought suited her well. Though Y/N loved to read, she didn’t want to study it in school. She didn’t want to taint something she found so much peace in with sleepless nights and forced readings. No, she had always wanted to keep that part of her life in a separate box from her academic one.

In school, she’d always thought science subjects to be fascinating. She ended up studying chemistry, biology, and maths for A-levels, she realised she did well in them because she thoroughly enjoyed her time there. Though it was hard, she liked how it opened her up to everything she wanted. Her parents hadn’t cared much for what she studied in A-levels, but it seemed to have shocked them that she did so well in subjects that juxtaposed with everything they thought Y/N was interested in. A little part of her was proud of herself for startling her parents like that; for doing the unthinkable in their eyes.

However, that was years ago now. Y/N hadn’t touched an academic book since. She was 25 and hadn’t gone to University like her friends from school. She hadn’t pursued her dreams. In her strict, rich family, she didn’t have to work a single hour for the rest of her life because her Dad had all the money they’d ever need. Plus, she hadn’t helped herself when she started going out with Dominic, another man who studied Business Management at University and someone whom Y/N’s Dad very much approved of. Y/N had been set. That was her life.

But she didn’t want that. She’d never wanted that. When she told her parents and Dominic this, they agreed it could get a bit tedious sitting around doing nothing but house chores all day. Y/N and her Mum had therefore volunteered at the hospital in town a few days a week, and some other days Y/N spent volunteering at a dentist. That was when she realised, she wanted to be a dentist. She didn’t really know why, had never really harboured a proper explanation for her interest, but she knew she wanted to be one. When Y/N told her Mum this, she just shook her head and took Y/N’s hand.

“What’d I do if you went away to uni, darling?” she asked, something that immediately sent a jolt of sadness and guilt through Y/N. Her Mum was right, she couldn’t just leave her. Y/N was the only child her parents had; she couldn’t disappoint them.

Y/N ran her hands over her face and then through her hair, forcing back the tears that were threatening to spill over. She wasn’t going to cry. She just wasn’t. Why would she cry? She’d escaped the life she hated back in Winchester, the two UCAT practice books she’d bought in secret at Waterstones were right before her, waiting to be opened and devoured. Why was she thinking about her life before this?

Y/N jumped up from her seat, looking at herself in the mirror beside the dresser. She quickly wiped away the tears on her cheek, as if doing it fast enough would hide the fact she was crying. She refused to cry.

Walking downstairs, she helped herself to a cup of tea in the kitchen, saying a quick hi to Bessie and her ladies before walking back upstairs. Putting her cuppa down on the desk, she gave her cheeks a little slap each, then sat down.

“Concentrate,” she hissed at herself, opening the window in front of the desk to let in some fresh air and seagull song.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the bigger of the two books, tapping her fingers against the blue cover as if bracing herself for what she’d find on the inside. Opening the   book and starting to read it was a commitment. That was a big if, because so far she had a ton of money on her credit card, but she didn’t have enough to pay for University tuition or rent.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to not think about anything but the contents of the book before her. If she wanted to do this, she’d have to do it with her whole heart, she couldn’t let anything distract her when she wanted to read for the UCAT. Inhaling slowly, she opened the book, reading the table of contents before the introduction..

She could do this, she believed in herself. She told herself that over and over again the next three hours, not losing sight of what she wanted and deserved. At the end of the day, if she didn’t tell herself those things, who else would?

“You look lovely,” Bessie said as Y/N stood in the lobby of the Inn, grinning from ear to ear. “Heading somewhere special, dear?”

Y/N looked down at her baby blue mini smock dress, small daisies printed and sporadically littered all over it. She smiled at Bessie, nodding her head a little. “It’s Harry’s little sister’s birthday.”

Bessie raised her eyebrows a tad, a knowing smile on her lips. She looked Y/N up and down again. “You’re going to that are you?”

“Yes, is this inappropriate?”

“No, no!” Bessie laughed. “I’m just happy to see you and Harry hanging out. He’s such a sweet lad.”

“He is, yeah.” Y/N was unsure if she should thank Bessie for the other day, or if it had been so long now that it would be weird. The innkeeper had never brought it up again, never talked about Harry until today, but judging by the raised eyebrows and smile on her face, Y/N was sure Bessie knew more than she was supposed to. However, seeing as she’d lied with Harry and Y/N, Y/N trusted Bessie to not tell people. It’d break Jessa’s heart for sure, and Y/N had a hunch that if that woman’s heart was broken, the entire town’s would be as well.

The mellow yellow Ford van Y/N had seen a few days earlier at Harry’s pulled up in front of the Inn’s open entrance. A pair of orange pilot sunglasses were perched on his nose, almost matching the exterior of the car. He reached down rolling the window down manually, giving Y/N a smile when their eyes met, and then Bessie the same one when he noticed her standing by the reception desk.

“You alright?” he asked just as the window got a bit stuck. He yanked the handle a bit to get it all the way around and stopped when the window was fully open. Clearing his throat, he reached to rest his arm where the window was no more, bumping his elbow and top of his head in the process. Bessie chuckled some behind Y/N, but Y/N held her giggles back. Opting for a smile instead once Harry met her gaze again.

“Get yourself a proper car, Harry,” Bessie said.

“This one works just fine, Bess.” Harry pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose as they slid down some when he bumped his head. “Besides, it’s massive.”

“Why do you need a massive car?”

“Massive car for a massive hunk.” He glanced at Y/N again as both women laughed at his remark. “You ready?

“Tell you-“ Y/N said as she stepped outside, on her way around the front of the car when she stopped herself, waving at Bessie. “Bye, Bessie!”

“Bye, dear! Have fun!”

Y/N opened the passenger side door and jumped a little to get inside the van, sitting down in the seat and putting her seatbelt on as she talked. “Tell you what, you got bants.”

“What happens when you grow up overweight,” Harry said, a smile on his face so she’d know he was making light of the situation.

“Oh?” Y/N asked, rolling down her window as well when Harry motioned for her to do so.

“The AC’s a bit fucked,” he explained, giving Bessie one last wave before driving off down the Terrace. Wind blew in on them, nice contrast to the scorching sun outside, though it was a bit loud, but Harry just talked over it. “But yeah, you got to be the cracking bloke who always tells jokes and makes everyone laugh. Why else would they want you in their circle?” There was a slight pause. “Actually, forget I said that. That’s an incredibly depressing place to start our day together, I-“

Y/N just laughed, finding the way Harry’s cheekbones turned all red and how he scratched at his neck in embarrassment, adorable.

“Sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, it’s completely fine.” She opened her purse, rummaging through it. “I got Grace this.” She held a headband out. Pink silk with red along the edges and red roses to match, Y/N had absolutely adored it when she saw it in Vintage Divine a few days before and she thought it’d look good in Gracie’s dark hair. “Dunno if she likes this kind of stuff, but if she doesn’t then Jessa’s free to take it.”

“If you give her something that nice, she’s going to cherish it and wear it every day. Mark my words.”

Y/N giggled. “Alright, I will mark them.”

Harry smiled a bit at that, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. When he didn’t notice her staring, Y/N took a few seconds to just study him and what he was wearing. A green and white tee shirt tucked into dark blue denim jeans, a pair of worn-down white Vans on his feet. He looked good, and the orange sunglasses made the whole outfit. She glanced away, not wanting to seem like a creep or like she was checking him out, because she was not.

“Who is coming to this birthday then?” she asked, putting the headband down in her purse again.

“Family. Maybe some of Gracie’s friends, but I think they’re having two separate birthday parties. Jessa and Gracie love a good social convention.”

Y/N smiled. “And you don’t?”

“I live by myself in a lighthouse.”

She laughed. “You don’t like people?”

“Nah, it’s not that,” Harry explained. “More the fact that I want to choose when to be around them, you know what I mean? I need a bit of breathing space, being around someone all the time makes me feel a bit claustrophobic.”

“Gotcha.”

Harry was silent for a few moments as he put on his turning signalled and then turned. “What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you like people?”

Y/N sat back in her seat properly, thinking about that question for a little bit. “Depends.”

“Okay.”

“If I don’t particularly like spending time with them, I don’t want to be around them.”

“Understandable.”

“But if I don’t know them very well yet or if I like them, then I don’t mind. I don’t like feeling lonely.”

“But if you don’t know the people you’re around, that’s just as lonely as being alone, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but if you don’t know someone, that’s potential to get to know them and make a friend,” she explained, watching as the town centre of St Ives started disappearing around them.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, waving at someone out his window. “Can see that.”

Y/N smiled. “You seem popular, though.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, everyone seems to know who you are.”

“The former lighthouse keeper’s son, and now current lighthouse keeper. Think that’s why.”

Y/N shrugged, not wanting to press the subject as she didn’t want to force an image of him that she’d created in her head onto him before getting to know him. She had to trust what he was saying and make her own observations. “What’re you giving Grace for her birthday then?”

“Trip to St Austell next Friday,” he said, stepping down on the gas a bit once they were on a more deserted country road. “About an hour north from here. There’s gonna be a street market there and she loves going on trips with me. She gets to decide the music, what shops we go to, and I always buy her two ice creams even though Jessa has a strict ‘only one ice cream per trip’ policy. We usually don’t give one about that.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It kind of is, yeah.”

“Is there something special about St Austell, then?”

Harry turned his lips downward for a second. “Not really. Just know from a mate who travels there a lot that there’s gonna be a street market on their high street.”

“Every fortnight, there would be a market in the town centre at home. Anyone could put up a stall and sell their homemade stuff. There was always this cheese and this fish booth standing right next to one another, and they smelled absolutely rank.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t like the smell of cheese and fish?”

“I’ve never been a fan of cheese, and though fish isn’t bad smelling, it… right okay, doesn’t smell good, does it?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno, I’ve lived here most of my life, so I’ve gotten quite used to the smell of fish over the years. Doesn’t really faze me now.”

“Lucky you, then.”

“And cheese is amazing.”

“That’s a blatant untruth. How dare you?”

Harry laughed, scrunching up his nose some before putting his turning signal on and then driving off the concrete road and onto a gravel one. They drove in silence the last part up to the farm. Forest rose up around them, but not thick enough so that you couldn’t make out distant houses or driveways leading up to other farms or neighbourhoods. It didn’t take long till Harry drove down a wider driveway, a thin line of trees along the edge of the estate that Y/N assumed was the Styles family’s.

A brick house along with a smaller brick house stood at the end of the small drive. Stone fencing surrounded the house, but the field outside of it was lush, green, and huge. Cars were parked there and people were hanging out inside the stone fence, sitting on tables or standing chatting. Different coloured flowers grew in front of the fence and by the looks of it, Jessa was growing a lot of vegetables on the other side. There were a few trees behind the house and inside what seemed to be the main area of the lot, so Y/N assumed they were trees that grew fruits as well. She couldn’t seem to remove her eyes from the little country oasis before her. It looked so tranquil that she almost wanted to live on a farm herself.

Harry parked his car on the grass outside the fence along with the rest of the guests. The second Grace noticed the mellow yellow van, she ran out to greet her older brother. Harry smiled at the sight of her and stopped the car, quickly turning to Y/N as he took his seatbelt off and started manually rolling up his window.

“I won’t leave your side, yeah? This can be a bit overwhelming, and you’ve never met my family before-“

“-And I won’t leave yours,” Y/N assured him, nodding as she took off her seatbelt as well. “Harry, we need to discuss our backstory-“

“-Harry!” Grace shouted, banging on the door and trying to get it open.

“One second, Gracie, I’m rolling the window up.” He turned his attention to Y/N. “Just keep yours down, it’ll get hot in here ‘cause of the sun.” He made sure his was shut before he paused for a moment, blinking once. “Fuck, we haven’t-“

“-Harry!” Grace knocked on the door again, jiggling the handle. “You haven’t said happy birthday to me yet!”

He sighed, giving Y/N a look before turning toward his door. “Step away, Grace. If I open the door now, I’ll mow you over.”

Y/N stepped outside as well, for the first time then paying attention to the noise of the farm. She thought she heard hens somewhere in between the chatter of the party guests, the smell of the open nature around her offering something besides the salt ocean and fish of St Ives. On the other side of the car, Harry pretended to struggle picking Grace up, something that had his little sister laughing. He walked over to the other side to Y/N, Grace grinning from ear to ear when she finally saw who’d come with Harry.

“You came!” Grace exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“Couldn’t miss your birthday, could I?” Y/N grinned, opening her purse. “My birthday present isn’t as good as your brother’s, but here you go.”

She handed Grace the headband and as Harry gasped, Grace gasped with him. He put her down, letting her study her birthday present.

“It’s so pretty,” Grace said. “I think I like it more than Harry’s.”

“Oi!” Harry frowned down at her. “Hurting my feelings now, mate.”

Grace only giggled, giving Y/N a smile. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

“There’s food!” Grace pointed at the house and started making her way there, expecting the two to follow. Harry made sure Y/N was tagging along before the two strolled after his little sister.

“How old is she now?”

“Seven.”

“Oh.” Y/N blinked a few times. “Thought she was ten when I met her.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh. “That’s weird.”

“Hey now. I don’t know what seven-year-olds look like.” Y/N nudged his arm with her shoulder. It only made him laugh again.

“Oh, uhm…” He swallowed, glancing between the farm and Y/N. “You don’t have to do this, but with my grandpa – or step-grandpa, I usually call him lolo, which is Tagalog for grandpa – the pamilya and lolo would really appreciate if you did the mano po.”

“Mano po?”

“It’s a gesture of respect for the elders, basically. You take their hand-“ Harry pretended as if there was a hand before him. “And you take their knuckles or their hand and touch it to your forehead. Instead of a handshake, you do that. We don’t really do it to anyone else here as we don’t have that much Filipino family in Cornwall, but lolo is big on it. It’s dying out a bit, not a lot are doing it anymore, but lolo wants to keep the tradition going, and it’s not really asking for much, is it? Plus, it’s very nice.”

Y/N smiled. “How lovely.”

“It’s performed with the right hand.” Harry waved his right hand in the air in such a way that had a few of their family members waving back at him, he played it off as if that was his intent, clearing his throat as he turned back to Y/N. “You say ‘mano po’ to him to kind of ask permission to do it. I don’t do that anymore ‘cause he knows me and expects me to do it, but I think he’d appreciate you asking first.”

“Okay, nice to know.”

“It’s very important for Filipino children to do this as it shows respect to the elders, but they continue to do it to their elders even when they grow up. They’re kind of asking for a blessing from the elder, it’s usually done when entering their house or seeing them.”

“Oh, so… this is a bit of a big deal?”

Harry huffed, shrugging his shoulders. There was silence for a moment before a quick, “Yes.”

“Grand.”

“Also might want to do it to nanay.”

“Jessa?”

“She once grounded Grace for not doing the mano po when she came home from school.” Harry opened the small gate leading into the farm. “I don’t think she expects you to do it, but I usually do when I see her.”

Y/N took a big breath, for the first time since coming to the farm feeling nervous. “I shook her hand when I first met her. Was that wrong of me?”

“Again,” Harry said, trying to give Y/N a reassuring smile. “She didn’t expect you to do the mano, but I think she’ll appreciate you doing it.”

“Harry!” Jessa called from across the lawn, waving them both over. Beside her sat a very old man in a chair by a table, surrounded by others that Y/N guessed also were family members.

“Hiya,” Harry said as they got closer, taking Jessa’s hand and bringing it to his forehead, touching her so tenderly and with so much respect it took Y/N’s breath away. She now understood why it was such a big deal to Jessa, Harry’s lolo, Harry, and their entire family, not just their Filipino part. As Harry removed her hand from his forehead, she grinned up at him, giving his hand a quick kiss before turning to Y/N.

“When Harry told us you were actually coming I started crying,” Jessa said, beaming so genuinely and widely her eyes were mere slits of pure happiness on her face. “Welcome to the farm!”

“Thank you so much,” Y/N smiled back, offering her hand and before Jessa could reach forward and shake it, Y/N said a soft, “Mano po?”

Jessa didn’t hide her surprise, but she was quick to wipe it off her face and nod once at Y/N. Jessa’s hand was warm and rough, reflecting the many years she’d lived on this earth and the hardships she must’ve gone through. Gently and with as much care as she could muster, Y/N brought Jessa’s knuckles to her forehead and held them there for a moment before lowering it. She understood why it was such an important tradition to their family now; it was respect. Doing so told the elders how much the youngers admired them, Y/N really liked it. Jessa squeezed her hand, gesturing with a pout of her lips to the right where lolo was sitting.

Harry was already taking his lolo’s hand, holding it to his forehead before lowering his lolo’s hand again. Harry gestured behind him, saying something Y/N didn’t catch. She smiled at Harry’s grandpa, offering to take the lolo’s hand and saying another “Mano po” to ask permission first. The lolo held his hand out for Y/N and she took it carefully, pressing the knuckles gently to her forehead for three seconds before lowering it again. The lolo didn’t give Y/N as much of a smile as Jessa had, but Harry had again explained how important this was to him. He’d most likely expected her to do it upon arrival. They shared a look and he blinked once, and for some reason, Y/N understood that was him telling her he appreciated her effort.

“Y/N, you have to try some of the food!” Grace took Y/N’s hand, dragging her away from everyone to get something to eat.

“Sorry, I’ll come over in a bit,” Y/N said to the little group, feeling relieved when Harry followed her and his sister. They entered the house, taking the first open door to the left to the dining room. The walls were a relaxing white, filled with pictures and lamps and art clearly made by kids. In the middle of the room stood the table, filled with food and drinks. And in the middle of it, taking up most of the space and hard not to have your eyes immediately fall to it, laid a pig.

“This,” Grace said, giving Y/N a plate before pointing at the first casserole of food. “This is shanghai lumpia, it’s one of my favourites. It’s egg rolls with sweet chilli sauce. This is sausage rolls, and scotch eggs, and this is palabok-“

“-Gracie,” Harry interrupted, standing on the opposite side of the table from them with a plate in his hand as well, helping himself to some shanghai lumpia. “Take it easy. Let Y/N have a look herself.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll let you look,” Grace said, making Y/N laugh.

“And what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the pig on the table that Grace had forgot to mention.

“Oh! Lechon!” Grace grinned from ear to ear. “It’s my favourite.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a whole roasted pig,” Grace explained. “It’s been cooked over charcoal for 6 hours. The entrails are removed and after seasoning, nanay skews the entire pig on a large bamboo stick and places it over the charcoal. You gotta be super patient to do it, which is why nay is so good at it.”

“The slow process makes the skin of the pig become very crispy and the meat’s always very tasty,” Harry chimed in, smiling at Grace as she nodded enthusiastically.

“A Filipino party is never complete without one. You know it’s a special occasion when nanay serves lechon.”

“So it’s served on special occasions?” Y/N asked, watching as Grace asked Harry to help her to a serving of it. He did, putting it on her plate as an excited squeal erupted from the seven-year-olds mouth. Y/N could see parts of Jessa in the small human before her and it made her very happy.

“Graduations, marriages, birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s, you name it,” Harry said.

“It’s my favourite part of special occasions.” Grace reached for a fork.

“While this all sounds lovely,” Y/N started, looking at the table packed with food. “I’m vegetarian.”

Grace looked to Harry. “Nay is gonna be mad with you.”

“Uhm, I…” He looked at Y/N, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come with an explanation. “I-I… There’s gonna be a brutal murder at noon.”

Grace laughed, finding Harry’s helplessness entertaining. Y/N was aware she should’ve told him before this, but it had completely slipped her mind. The last week had been incredibly interesting trying to convert into vegetarianism. It had been hard, and she’d slipped up a few times, but she really wanted to make an effort. She noticed Harry looking down the table frantically, eyes moving between the different dishes.

“I mean, if there’s no vegetarian food, I’ll just eat-“

“-Tarte!”

All of them fell quiet, watching as Harry blinked a few times, realising he’d just shouted that out loud. Biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his hair, he gestured at the pan nonchalantly.

“The root vegetable tarte,” he said, a little more calmly.

“Oh?”

Grace pointed at it at the other end of the table and Y/N walked over. “Nay makes the best root vegetable tarte. You’ll love it,” Grace smiled, watching as Y/N helped herself to a serving.

“Thank you, Grace.”

Someone shouted something from the front garden, Y/N recognised the voice as Jessa’s and supposed other guests had arrived. She was probably calling for Grace to come say hi.

“Don’t tell your Mum,” Harry hissed as Grace started making her way out.

“She’ll find out eventually.”

“Not from you.”

Grace walked outside and Harry sighed, gesturing for Y/N to follow him into the living room where they could sit and eat in peace. There were some friends of the family in there, but Harry only said a quiet hello before sitting down, shielding Y/N a bit from view. She supposed he did it more so she wouldn’t be bombarded with questions than anything else, she really appreciated that.

The living room faced the back garden; big and open, a few trees every here and there along with a greenhouse. A fireplace stood by the far wall, one sofa placed beside it and a telly before the sofa. There was another sofa opposite the dining room entrance, Harry had made the two of them sit in that one, clearly so they wouldn’t have to chat with the small group huddled behind the television. Again, in the living room as well, pictures of Harry, Grace, and the family were everywhere. Y/N had never seen this many frames on a wall before, or in a house even.

They started eating in silence, but Harry had barely managed to eat one lumpia before someone came over. He put the plate away, smiling up at the two women in their late 30’s it seemed.

“Y/N, my aunts Rachel and Abby. Aunties, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Y/N sat up a bit straighter as Rachel and Abby started talking over one another, high-pitched voices that showed of unapologetic excitement. They reached for her hand to shake it.

“Jessa has told us so much about you,” Abby said.

“Well, not much, anyway, but she’s talked about you. She’s obsessed,” Rachel went on.

“We’re Harry’s Dad’s sisters, by the way.”

“But Harry’s never told us where you’re from! Where are you from?”

“And how did you meet?!”

“Harry hasn’t talked much about you, he likes to be a bit mysterious, don’t you, Haz?” Rachel pinched Harry’s cheek, laughing a little at his grimace.

“No, but seriously, how did you meet? Where was your first date?”

“You’ve kept her a secret for so long, we need to know everything.”

“Auntie Abby, Rachel,” Harry said, chuckling a little as he sighed. “You’re gonna overwhelm her if you keep going.”

“It seems unlikely that a lad that quiet has a loud family, doesn’t it?” Abby asked, nodding in the direction of Harry, but asking Y/N the question. Y/N was about to say something when Rachel interrupted her.

“You look proper posh. Don’t reckon you’ve ever made a flowerbed, have you? Harry,” Rachel said, looking at Harry. “Did you get yourself one of them posh girls from London?”

“Alright.” Harry stood from the sofa. “We’re escaping.” He turned around, offering Y/N his hand. Him doing that took her a bit off guard. They’d never touched each other, and they were just going to start holding hands? She hadn’t felt a jolt of panic till then, she didn’t know why. Gently, she placed her hand in his. It was soft, rough as if he was used to handling mechanics and doing manual labour, but the skin was soft regardless. She didn’t know how he managed the combination.

He helped her up into a standing position, letting go of her hand when she stood right beside him. They left their plates behind as Harry manoeuvred his way around his aunties, making sure Y/N was following him as he made his way up the stairs in the foyer.

“It was nice meeting you,” Y/N called over her shoulder, smiling at them. She hoped it came across as genuine. Harry walked up the stairs and down the corridor to his right, entering the room on the left. He held the door open for her, closing it once they were inside.

He let go of a small groan. “Masters of doing my head in.”

“They were very chatty.”

“One way of putting it.” Harry sat on a single bed and it was then that she noticed they were in a bedroom. The walls were a bright green colour, posters of different Manchester United players and other football things. Y/N didn’t know enough about the sport to say anything definitely, but she knew the Manchester United logo when she saw it. The room was fairly small, only a wardrobe pushed up against the same wall the bed was and a tiny desk under the window. Judging by the picture of a man and a boy on the nightstand, Y/N concluded this had to be Harry’s childhood room. That picture was of him and his father. They looked so much alike it warmed her heart. She wouldn’t pry, but she continued to look around, letting Harry sit in silence on the bed for a minute or two.

“Wondered why you had a bit of a northern accent,” she said, gesturing at the posters. “You’re from Manchester?”

“Mancunian at heart, yeah.”

“Why’d you move down here? Don’t northerners hate the south and southerners?”

Harry smiled a little at that, looking at her. “Depends on what kind of southerner you’re talking about.”

Y/N chuckled, glancing at the posters again. “The posh ones.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Only those from London.”

Y/N kept her eyes on the posters. “So, why’d you move? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Hmm,” Harry said, looking out the window at the party going on outside. “Dad wanted us to move. He got the position as a lightkeeper since his Dad died, so we moved down here and on vacation in the Philippines a few years later, he met Jasmine.”

Y/N smiled. “I love that.”

“Yeah.” Harry let that word hang in the air between them for a few seconds. She looked down at him. “Anyway,” Harry got up from the bed, running his hands through his hair. “We need to figure out what we should do. When did we meet?”

A little taken aback by his sudden urge for them to establish their relationship, Y/N stood just glancing at him for a moment. Though she had no idea where to start, she thought nailing down location could be key first. “Have you been to Hampshire?”

“No.”

“Then, to keep some truth in there, we say we met in Newquay since it’s in Cornwall, ‘cause I’ve been there with my family a few years back. We met…” She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of an appropriate time.

“Last summer?” Harry suggested.

“And we’ve been talking on and off since.”

He nodded. “Didn’t get serious till April, since then we’ve kind of been seeing each other.”

Seeing how eager they were at building their backstory, Y/N smiled a little. She remembered something he’d mentioned earlier. “It wasn’t till the Exeter trip in May that we made it official,” she went on. “Did you actually go to Exeter? Do you have the hotel you stayed in?”

“I did and yes.”

“Right, we’ll use that if people ask us about where we stayed while there.” She brought her hand to her chin, looking out the window as she thought for a moment. “What did we do on our trip to Exeter? What kind of activities would two adults in a relationship be doing in Exeter?”

The room fell quiet. Harry cleared his throat. When Y/N turned around, he was scratching at his neck again, looking at the ground. “I mean…” There was a pause. “They do… Do…” Another pause. “New sightseeing.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, dragging it out as she put her hands on her hips. “I suppose they do. What kind of sightseeing would we be doing?”

He seemed to be caught off guard by that, swallowing thickly. Y/N noticed a slight flare to his cheeks. “Dunno… Depends o-on what you’d wanna do.”

“What you mean?”

“What you’d be up for that early in the relationship.”

“Oh, I would be up for anything.”

Harry looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Any… anything?”

“Yeah, I want to experience everything.”

A whispered, “Everything,” left Harry’s lips.

“Think we’d spend a lot of time sightseeing, especially if we were in a town where there’s loads of places to do it.”

Harry just looked at her.

“Okay,” Y/N smiled, leaning against the desk. “So, we met in Newquay last summer. Where?”

“Oh, uhm-“ Harry’s voice broke towards the end, he cleared his throat quickly. “The beach.”

“Classic. Were we with friends?”

“No.”

“Even better.”

“Neither family knew till around the Exeter trip that we were together?”

“You play off what you’ve told Jessa and Gracie, I’ll say my family knows, but I didn’t tell them till I left just now for St Ives.”

“Why not?”

She waved it off. “Overprotective parents.”

“Okay, uhm…” He looked out the window behind her as he thought for a bit. “How did we start talking on that beach in Newquay?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side, allowing herself time to come up with something good. “I could’ve come up to you and just asked your name, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I mean this in the least disrespectful way possible, but you seem very shy, no idea if that’s your kind of move.”

He smiled a little. “Shy or not, don’t think I would’ve had the courage to walk up and ask for your name and number.”

She narrowed her eyes a little at him, unsure how to interpret that. But Harry didn’t let her dwell on it for long.

He kneaded his palm with the thumb of his other hand, averted his eyes from hers as he hid his face in the little shadow the room provided. “But yeah, I… I like my own company, I guess.”

“Sorry, daft of me to just put it like that.”

“No, you’re completely right. We’ll go with you coming up to me.” He looked down at his hand. “Why were you in Newquay then? And why was I?”

“I was there with family, but I went to the beach alone that day.”

He nodded a little. “I’ll say it was a lads trip then.”

She smiled at him, feeling herself let out a small sigh of relief. They were getting a pretty good overview of the beginning of their supposed relationship. “And we went on a date in Newquay?”

Harry nodded just as the phone in his pocket started ringing. He sighed, reaching for it with a slight tremor to his hand. He dragged it out and pressed a button before turning back to Y/N.

“Aren’t you gonna answer it?”

“No, no one’s calling.”

“Then-“

She stopped as it rang again. Harry groaned and brought it up to his upper arm before checking it again, sighing as he gestured at the door.

“Need to go do something,” he said.

“Oh.”

He stepped out of the room and disappeared from view, but a second later he poked his head through the doorframe to look back at her.

“You’re not coming?”

That got her moving. She followed him downstairs and back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, bringing a cartoon of milk out and putting it on the counter before reaching for the cupboard behind Y/N.

A hushed, “Sorry,” left his lips and he was quick to step away from her after retrieving the glass. He poured himself some milk and then chugged the glass. Y/N had just thought it was him getting a sudden urge to have a glass of milk, but as he started pouring himself another glass, she debunked that thought very quickly. She watched him till the second glass was down, not saying a word as she didn’t really know what to say to that. Did he just love milk? And why did they have to stop mid-conversation for him to have two glasses?

He looked at her and when he caught her staring, he let a breathy chuckle leave his lips before glancing at the milk carton again. “Sorry about that. It helps my blood sugar.”

Y/N furrowed her brows some. “Pardon?”

Harry turned his body so his right side was facing her, dragging the arm of his tee shirt up till his shoulders. A white patch was attached to his skin, a bit larger than a fifty pence coin, round and standing in soft contrast to his tanned skin. Y/N stared at it for a few seconds before meeting Harry’s eyes again, not knowing what to make of what he was showing her.

“Diabetic.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Type 1. Had it for…” He trailed off as he thought. “About 12 years now. I think. Time’s a social construct.”

“And milk helps when your blood sugar is low?”

“Yeah, that alarm is to tell me my blood sugar’s getting low or too high. It doesn’t happen all the time, by the way. You’ve just caught me when I haven’t eaten in a bit and my blood sugar’s been low.”

“So, what’s that white thing got to do with you being a diabetic?”

“A needle’s attached to the sensor which constantly checks my blood sugar, and that’s connected to an app on my phone, yeah? So it sends signals when the blood sugar’s extra low or high… Makes sense?”

“Ahh,” Y/N said, nodding. “Got it. I think.”

Harry poured himself another glass before putting the milk back in the fridge. “Suppose I should’ve told you earlier, it’s a pretty big part of my life.” He laughed a bit as if to make light of the situation, but Y/N only shook her head.

“Just ‘cause we’re fake dating doesn’t mean you have to tell me things about yourself that you don’t want strangers to know.”

He held onto his glass of milk, only looking at Y/N for a few seconds as if he was thinking about something. He shook his head a little, bringing his glass to his lips. “I’m not ashamed of it, if that’s what you think.”

“There you are!” Jessa walked through the front door, grinning just as widely as always upon seeing Y/N. She practically skipped into the kitchen and up to the small round table positioned in the middle of it. “Have you introduced her to everyone, Harry?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, people are absolutely dying to meet the woman who has captured our Harry’s heart.” Jessa put a hand over her own heart, looking at Harry with so much love it made Y/N almost tear up a bit. “Everyone’s so happy for the two of you.”

Harry and Y/N looked at one another. Harry’s expression was blank as if he was waiting for her reaction to Jessa’s excited exclamation, so when Y/N scrunched up her nose and smiled at Harry, the dimples in Harry’s cheeks started to show some as well. They didn’t know what else to do or say to Jessa’s statement, but judging by her reaction, it was the correct response. Jessa gave the two an applause no one asked for, but she looked so incredibly happy Y/N didn’t mind.

“Y/N, you have to come to the beach with us on Monday!”

“Nay,” Harry sighed, opening one of the drawers by the counter he was leaning against and pulling out a bar of Dairy Milk. He got himself a row before placing the bar on the counter and then eating his row.

“No, it’ll be amazing. You’re always welcome around here, know that,” Jessa said, that bright beam of hers not once leaving her face once. “Monday we do kamayan on the beach. It’s a summer tradition in the Styles-Flores family!”

Harry looked at Y/N again, swallowing the last of his chocolate. “You don’t… You don’t have to come if you don’t wanna.”

Y/N looked back at him, her smile still present. “Of course I’ll come.”

“Yay!” Jessa clapped again. “I’ll go tell everyone then, they’re going to be ecstatic.” She jogged out the front door then, walking over to a small group of people and saying something that Y/N guessed was the news of Y/N coming along to the beach.

Harry downed the rest of his milk before putting the glass in the dishwasher.

“I almost feel a little bad that we’re going to break up at the end of summer now,” Y/N said, speaking so lowly that only the two of them would hear.

Harry glanced out the window of the kitchen at Jessa. “She’ll be devastated, but I just need to take her on a little road trip and play her some music and she’ll be fine.”

Y/N smiled. “Both Jessa and Gracie love it when you take them on a road trip and they get to listen to music.”

Harry chuckled some. “Guess they do.”

The both of them looked out the window at the garden where both sides of the Flores-Styles family were mingling. Jessa walked up to Harry’s lolo, grinning like always, and Y/N thought she might’ve seen Jessa’s Dad smile back at her. It was hard not to when the woman genuinely glowed and brought happiness with her wherever she went.

Y/N turned back to Harry again, catching him looking into the living room where his aunties were sitting on the sofa he and Y/N had been sitting in earlier. They had his abandoned plate of food between them, eating while they talked about some gossip Y/N couldn’t and wasn’t interested to keep up with.

“Harry,” she said, voice low. He looked back at her. “About… About the diabetes, I-“

“-No, I…” He averted his eyes to the tiled floor of the kitchen, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “Let’s not talk about that right now. My blood sugar will get better in a bit, I’ll stop shaking. We can go outside and chat with some of me family members.”

“You’re shaking?”

He let out what sounded like a short chuckle, holding his hand up so she could see that he was indeed trembling. “Hypoglycaemia. It’s normal.”

“Ahh, yeah, I’ve heard of that.”

“Anyway,” he said. “Let’s not think about that now.”

Y/N inhaled hugely, pushing away from the counter to look at Harry without turning her face. “Shall we mingle like couples do, boyfriend?”

He leaned his head back against the cupboard, running a hand over his face before taking his sunglasses off the top of his head and putting them back on. “We shall, girlfriend.” 

He gestured with his arm for her to walk first and she did, waiting for him to appear beside her once they were outside. He walked her over to where Jessa was standing beside her Dad, saying something to a taller man who stood beside her. His grey hair was slicked back, the shirt and trousers he wore looked worn-down and old, but they looked good on him still.

“Uncle Tom,” Harry said as they approached, a smile on his face as the tall man glanced over. “Hi.”

“Harry! Heard someone say you were here and I saw your car, thought you were hiding from me.” Uncle Tom gave Harry a big hug, patting him on the back a few times before they stepped away from one another. Tom’s eyes settled on Y/N, a smirk on his face as his eyes darted between Harry and her a few times. “So, this is the infamous Y/N.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, waving her hand some as if to dismiss the ‘infamous’ part. “You lot make me feel like a celebrity.”

“Well, when you make our Harry happy, in our eyes you are a celebrity.” Uncle Tom opened his arms, bringing Y/N into a hug she returned quickly, wrapping her arms around him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged someone. “I’m Tom, Harry’s uncle,” Tom said as he pulled away from Y/N. “I’m not really his uncle, just very good friends with his late Dad.”

“I’ve called him Uncle Tom since forever.”

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Tom,” Y/N said.

“And I hear,” Tom started, pointing at Jessa over his shoulder, who was still chatting to Harry’s lolo. “You’re coming to the beach next week.”

Harry made a noise. Y/N wasn’t sure what it meant. “Jessa forced her.”

“No, no. Don’t listen to him.” Y/N looked at Harry as he looked at her. She gave him a smile before looking back at Tom. “I want to come; it’ll be an honour.”

“Cheers. It’s one of those trips we take around the beginning of summer every year. The entire family comes, we bring food, and we spend most of the day there. It’s not an extravagant tradition, but it’s ours.”

“It sounds so nice.”

Tom smiled. “The way you’re dressed and judging by how polite and well put-together you are-“

“-Uncle-“

“-I would’ve thought a casual beach day with poor folks down south would sound dull?”

The way Tom said it wasn’t degrading, and Y/N could tell by his smile that he wasn’t saying it to challenge her in any way. With one hand dangling at his side and the other placed on Harry’s shoulder, he looked quite relaxed and not at all like he was trying to interrogate or make Y/N feel inferior. No, he was just wondering. Which was fair, because it seemed a lot of the people in Harry’s family and in St Ives had picked up on the fact Y/N had grown up in a very posh household. The question of why her wealth was so important for them to point out was something she didn’t bother thinking about. It didn’t define her any longer.

“Not dull at all. Maybe even a little refreshing. Don’t get to go to the beach much since I don’t live near one.”

Harry nodded. “We, uh… We actually met when the lads and I visited Newquay last summer. On the beach.”

“You mean you met on the beach?” Tom asked and Harry nodded. Tom glanced at Y/N again. “And you like the beach, Y/N?”

“Love it.”

“Maybe you should move here then. From what I’ve heard, Harry’s left the solitude of his lighthouse a few times already to be with you in town.”

“Only twice,” Harry mumbled, but Tom ignored him.

Y/N only laughed. “A bit too early to think about that. We’ve only been seeing each other for two months now.”

“Nah, this family moves fast, darling. If we fall in love, we fall hard, and we fall fast. Why measure love in hours spent together when it could be measured by the quality of that time, instead of the quantity?” Tom said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Ain’t that right, mate?”

“No comment.”

Tom grinned. “Alright, alright.”

“I’m gonna take Y/N for a stroll so she can meet the rest, just wanted her to meet you first,” Harry said, looking to Y/N for some kind of confirmation, that she was okay with this.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’ll see you two Monday, then,” Tom smiled, giving both a wink. He had the kind of old Dad charm that made you feel warm and safe, Y/N understood why Harry considered him family even though he wasn’t.

“Bye.”

“Good to meet you, Tom.”

“And you, Y/N.”

The rest of the afternoon went by very quickly. Harry introduced her to some other friends and family members, and though they asked them questions about their relationship, the two seemed to have already gotten a pretty good overview of what it was. That little chat in Harry’s childhood room had done wonders to get their head in the game. That, and the fact their relationship was so new meant there wasn’t a lot to tell, so some questions the two simply did not know because it wouldn’t be realistic for them to have experienced or thought about that yet.

At one point, Grace asked Y/N to help with her new headband. She didn’t know how to wear it in her hair, and she needed help. The two sat down on a bench beside the barn – which, by the sound and smell of it, housed hens �� and Y/N helped Grace. The red and pink looked gorgeous in her black hair, and when she turned around and looked at Y/N once she was done putting it in, she grinned from ear to ear and asked, “Do I look pretty?” Y/N didn’t even have to hesitate before telling Grace she looked absolutely beautiful. The seven-year-old blushed and ran over to Harry who was walking over to them. He picked her up, throwing her small form in the air before bringing her to his hip again.

“Ready to leave?” Harry asked and Y/N said she was.

They said goodbye to everyone, and Jessa brought Y/N’s hand to her lips, kissing it quickly and giving it a warm pat before she let her walk off. Jessa, Grace, Uncle Tom, and Lolo stood by the white tree gate as Y/N and Harry left, watching the mellow yellow Ford van drive off down the gravel road. The sun was about to set, causing the sky overhead to bathe in a soothing orange and purple colour that promised sunny weather the following day. The drive back to the Inn was short and quiet. The silence lingered somewhere between exhaustion and awkwardness, and though Y/N wanted to say something to erase the tension, she couldn’t bring herself to.

When the town started appearing a bit more around them, she felt the phone in her purse vibrate. First she didn’t know what was happening, but then her heart suddenly dropped. She felt hot all over, the wind from the open window didn’t do anything to cool her down. Swallowing thickly, she tried to ignore it. But it was hard when the purse was in her lap. Harder when it was so loud. Even harder when her heartbeat sounded in her ears. As if the quiet in the car hadn’t been loud enough, the sound of her phone vibrating and her not picking up, was louder. There were only three people it could be. She didn’t want to bring her phone out to see which one it was. The ringing stopped after an excruciating 30 seconds, and Y/N closed her eyes. Just ignore it. Just ignore them. It’ll be fine. Ignore it and it’ll go away.

They arrived a minute later, and Y/N was grateful Harry didn’t ask about the phone incident. She stepped out and around the car, the smell of the sea surrounding them once again.

“The beach thing on Monday,” Harry said as Y/N stood by the entrance to the Inn, his window rolled down and orange sunglasses resting in his messy hair. “It’s on Porthmeor Beach. Send me a text when you start walking from here and I’ll walk in your direction, I’ll meet you, yeah?”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He shook his head once to dismiss that. “Goodnight, Y/N. Cheers for today.”

“It was fun.” She gave him a little wave. “Goodnight.”

He started his engine as Y/N walked inside. Bessie stood by the reception desk sorting through some documents. When Y/N glanced in her direction and met her eyes, the innkeeper quickly glanced away, but the tiny smile on her face gave her away. Once in her room, Y/N checked who had called. It had been a few minutes now and they wouldn’t care to call again tonight, she thought. The ‘Mum’ on her locked screen made something inside her chest ache. She opened her phone to remove the notification but then closed it again a second later. Her Mum had called. After days of no one reaching out, of no one asking her where she was, of no one caring. Her Mum had called.

Changing out of her dress and removing her make-up, Y/N didn’t allow herself to think about anything. The only thing she allowed herself to focus on was a blackness. If you focused on nothing, nothing would hurt you. She didn’t want hurt. She’d had enough of that.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 16 August, 9PM GMT!

A HUGEEE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly​ 🌊 @summerfeelng​ 🌊 @withallthelove-a​ 🌊 

[scarlett-hamiltonf1]

Can we get an imagine where the reader finds Seb really sexy in green?;)

                                   ~Green is the New Sexy~ 

3/24/21

*Smut Warning* *Please read at your own discretion*

Word Count: 1440

Sebastian always looked good. From RedBull to Ferrari and now Aston Martin. You along with what seems like every single female fan agreed with you. Now, let’s not forget, you yourself are a model. A mainstream, famous one at that, who happened to be at the Monaco Grand Prix a few years ago. You were nineteen and he 23 about to win his first WDC, also that day he would propose to you. From the moment your eyes met you knew, Sebastian was going to be a force in your life.  

Little did you know how fast you would come to love the Ferrari driver. Being his wife has a lot of perks as well. When you’re not doing a shoot, you’ll be at races with him, trying to be supportive of his demanding career. It wasn’t easy on you or him, to be honest, but it was worth every single second.  

When the news broke Sebastian wouldn’t be continuing with Ferrari, you were livid. Sebastian almost had to take away your electronics to stop you from giving Mattia an earful. Of course, you calmed down and were especially proud when Sebastian announced his contract with Aston Martin on Ferrari's 1,000th race day, overshadowing them by a long shot. Besides that small hiccup, all was well in your little world.  

While Seb and you didn’t have kids yet, Charles still remained your unofficial love child with Sebastian and you had him and Charlotte over a lot. Then came Lance Stroll to add to your family and finally Mick sealing the deal. You’ll never admit it, but Mick’s your favorite. He’s just a little angel, and you really wanted to see him succeed in Formula 1. Which, brings us to the day before the Aston Martin livery reveal.  

“Seb, they’re going to be here soon!” you called from downstairs.  

You hear light footsteps and Seb appeared at the base of the steps in your home in Kensington. It was actually closed to Lewis, who was another close family friend.  

“Why must we have the children over?” Seb groaned.  

“Because you secretly enjoy having the younger drivers look up to you.”  

Sebastian hugged you from behind while pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as the doorbell rang. Without hesitation, Sebastion sprang toward the door causing you to laugh at his actions. No matter how much he denies it, he enjoys having the younger drivers  

“Y/N!” Mick called as he rushed to give you a big hug.  

“Mick Schumacher, I am so proud of you!”  

He blushed at your compliment before moving to let Charles and Lance hug me. The trio was invited over to watch a movie before Seb left tomorrow, to Aston Martin F1 headquarters for the launch.  

While the drivers watched Ford vs Ferrari, you made your way upstairs and began looking through photo albums that you kept of your very favorite moments. The picture of Seb and you posing together, after your wedding ceremony was your favorite.  

One that stood out was the large smile on his face when he won his first Championship. That smile had been gone for a long time since Ferrari. All you want is to see him smile like that again.  

“Bye Y/N!” the trio yelled, shaking you out of your thoughts.  

Sebastian cleaned up downstairs before crawling in bed with you. He could sense something was off with you, but to his better judgment, he decided to let you bring up the issue with him when you felt ready.  

“Seb?”  

“Yes, darling.”  

You sighed, “We’ve been married ten years, and I can tell when you’re upset. Your love for racing, do you think it will come back now that you’re at a new team?”  

Sebastian held onto your hand while looking you in the eye. “It already has come back, and you helped me tremendously,” he replied. “Even though you almost made we mess up my start at the Monaco Grand Prix in 2010.”  

You gave Sebastian a dirty look. “Not my fault you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me when I was a grid girl.”  

“If they ever brought the grid girls back, would you be mine?”  

Sebastian looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. You really would say yes, just for him, but you also weren’t ready to give him the satisfaction.  

“Goodnight, Seb.”  

“Sweet dreams, my love...I’ll be dreaming of my grid girl.”  

The next morning you two found yourselves at Headquarters after a long drive. While Sebastian did the presentation, you waited in his room with a bedroom, bath suite, and sitting room. Of all the places to have a suite, the Aston Martin Headquarters was not the first place that came to mind.  

Finally, you heard the key swipe and the door swung open, revealing a pleasant surprise. When you saw Seb, a small shiver ran through your spine. Green was definitely his color this year. Might have been red last year, but good by red and a warm welcome to green!

“So, handsome.” You smirked.  

Sebastian smirked back at you before giving you a quick kiss. “So, you like the uniform?”  

“It’s perfect. I really think green is your color, Seb,” you replied as you sat on his thigh.  

Your eyes met as you became very away from the rough fabric rubbing against your own jeans. Sebastian’s hands flew to your waist as he scooted you up his thigh slightly.  

“My God, you’re going to kill me woman with those looks.” he groaned as I moved my hips ever so slightly against him. “What do you want, Angel?”  

“You.”  

“How?”  

“Rubbing my clit till I can’t take it anymore.”  

Sebastian kissed you passionately on the lips while taking off your jeans and underwear, quickly attaching a finger against your bundle of nerves as you arched your back in response.  

You let out a loud moan as Sebastian continued circling your clit with his thumb while two fingers slipped inside you, quickly finding that sweet spot.  

“Se––Seb!” You cried out.  

Sebastian smirked widely, as he picked up the pace. “You look so beautiful, taking my fingers Angel.”

“Fuck, Sebastian!”

“Yes, that’s the plan.” he quipped playfully.  

Leave it to Sebastian to make a joke in the middle. Sending him a glare, he curled his fingers in you as waves of pleasure rolled through you quickly. You gripped his shoulders, as your legs began shaking, signaling to Sebastian you were close.  

“Seb...Seb, I’m close.” you moaned softly.  

“You like the green uniform?”  

All you could do was moan in response as he slowed down his movements only slightly.  

“Then I want you to come right on it,” he demanded with an authoritative tone causing another shiver to run down your spine.  

Without warning Sebastian picked up speed again while ramming his fingers in you, twisting and curling them to your sweet spot every time. Your moans became louder and needier, as fireworks were going through you.  

“Sebastian!” you screamed out as you finally came undone. You grinded down on the rough green fabric of his race suit, only causing more pleasure to roll through you.  

Sebastian continued to rub your clit through your orgasm, and soon you felt liquid running down your legs. When you caught your breath, you saw Sebastian looking at you in amazement.  

“You squirted, Angel,” he explained.  

“Seb, you unlocked that a long time ago, yet you still get so surprised every time.” you chuckled as he picked up, and walked to the bathroom.  

Seb chuckled. “Well, if I’d known me wearing green turned you on quickly, I should've shown you the uniform sooner!”  

Your eyes flicked up to Sebastian, while you hung onto his like a baby koala bear. “You had this for a while?”  

“Yeah, about a month.”  

“Well...you should expect every time you put on the suit for this to happen.” You replied with a smirk.  

Seb’s pupils were still blown as he kissed you again. “Anytime for you, Angel.”  

With a final kiss, Sebastian started a warm bath for you to soak in. Despite being married for a decade, and knowing each other better than the other, you still managed to keep each other surprised. It was just the nature of your relation, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. You were glad the grid girls were gone but thankful they had them at one point because you might’ve not met your man in green. After all, green is the new sexy.  

~Hope you enjoyed it!~

[nour386]

Meeting the not Heroic Family

My submission for @pinesconessecrets as the santa of @mothmanfactkin, His prompts included super hero au and awkward dinner. So I combined them together into one massive fic. I hope you enjoy this because I enjoyed writing this. (Also on Ao3!)

"Dipper, I'm not sure about this," Wirt tightened his grip on his boyfriend's hand.

"It'll be fine!" Dipper awkwardly bumped Wirt with his elbow. "They don't need to know that I'm dating the legendary 'Spirit of the Plants'."

"Dipper this is serious." Wirt said. "If your Uncle is half as smart as you say he is, he should be able to figure out my identity in an instant."

"Don't worry about that, we have your cover story remember?" Dipper grinned, "a humble library part timer fresh out of college, looking for work. It'd cover most of our bases."

Wirt didn't look convinced. He bit his lip and looked away. His mind raced with all the ways this evening could go wrong. A villain somehow reconsigning him, and attacking them through the window. A giant monster bursting through the ceiling, crushing everyone and splattering the walls with their blood. Or worst of all, his boyfriend's uncles deciding that he was a bad influence. Cutting his time with Dipper short.

"Hey, look at me." Dipper pinched Wirt's cheek making the lanky man wince.

"What was that for?" Wirt rubbed his cheek.

"You were doing that thing where you panic and over think everything and worry that the end of the world will come about because you dropped a spoon." Dipper rolled his hand as he spoke.

"There was no apocalypse this time." Wirt said in a small voice.

"That's not the point Pilgrim." Dipper sighed. He placed both his hands on Wirt’s shoulders. "I know you're worried, and in truth, I am a little as well; but nothing helpful is going to come from sitting here and stewing in our sweat. Let's go take this thing down together."

Wirt took a deep breath, and let himself be held by Dipper. The weight of his hands on his shoulders helped ground the young man. He looked into his boyfriend’s eyes and gave a small smile. 

“I think. I'll be fine.” Wirt said slowly.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Dipper smiled.

The pair made their way down the long walk up to the mystery shack. Normally Dipper would have insisted on flying the pair over, but decided that letting Wirt get excited over the natural beauty of Gravity Falls might help him calm down enough to face his uncles. That judgement worked out swimmingly in his favour as Wirt awkwardly asked to stop every few minutes to observe some flower or shrub that he didn’t quite recognise. 

“I know you said the town was bustling with the unknown, I didn’t think that would include plants.” Wirt carefully touched the leaf of a shrub. 

“Is a small bush that impressive?” Dipper squated next to Wirt to observe the plant. The stem looked like it was covered in red polka dots. 

“Look! This shrub adapted its stem to look like it's covered in red ants to avoid being eaten!” Wirt said in an excited voice. He gave the leaf at the tip of the stem a small poke and gave a small twitter of delight as the stem curled up perfectly to make the polka dots look even larger. 

“Huh, I never noticed that.” Dipper taped his chin.

“Probably because you spent the better part of your time running for your life.” Wirt tapped a nearby tree. A sturdy branch grew out, just high enough along the trunk to help him stand up without groaning. “Thank you.” He whispered to the tree.

“You know, for a superhero you sure do use your powers haphazardly.” Dipper teased. He stood up, and led the way to the shack.

“You’re just jealous that your yearbook photo this year was captioned ‘plant killer’.” Wirt smirked,   following Dipper along the path.

“I told all of our friends to not get me house plants as gifts. But they never listen.” Dipper threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can hardly take care of myself. You think I can take care of a plant?”

“Thank your lucky stars that I didn’t decide to incarcerate you for crimes against greenery.” Wirt said.

“That’s not a thing and you know it Mr.’Hero’.” Dipper punched Wirt’s arm.

“Well it might be!” Wirt shot back. “And now the charge has changed to battery.”

“Oh no. how could you have stopped my dastardly crimes.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Who’s talking about crime?” came a gruff voice.

The pair looked ahead to find an older looking man. Greying hair that lay flat on his head, a red nose and square jaw. He wore a serious expression, his face behind his square glasses was twisted into a serious scowl as he looked at the two young men. 

“I-uh no-one Sir.” Wirt squeaked. 

Dipper on the other hand rolled his eyes. “Why? You want a cut of the goods?” “You’re damn right.” The old man smirked. 

“I wha-” Wirt looked between them.

“Are you sure you’d want to be associated with horrible criminals like us?” Dipper asked. “Wouldn’t want the press to find out and cause another scandal.”

“Those paparazzi cronies will swarm after anything. It’ll blow over in less than a day.” The old man chuckled.

“What?” Wirt tilted his head.

Dipper grinned. “Wirt, this is my Great uncle Stan, retired hero and ever active conman.” 

“Hero?” Wirt stared at the man. His mind raced to put a mask to the face.

“Autographs cost 50 and pictures with me are 100.” Stan gave a showman’s grin. “Keep in mind that those prices are mutually exclusive.”

“And if you want him in costume you’d be footing the tailor’s bill.” Dipper elbowed Wirt.

“Wait, who were you?” Wirt asked.

“Who was I? Who was I?” Stan looked as though he had the wind knocked out of him. “What kind of cave dweller did you bring to my house?”

Dipper rolled his eyes at Stan’s theatrics. He was well used to his uncle’s inflated ego about his hero career. Wirt on the other hand found difficulty picking up on Stan’s very subtle hints at playing a bit. He felt his stomach sink to his feet as the man’s voice grew in volume, his life flashing before his eyes as he tried to figure out which hero this angry looking man could have been. 

“Grunkle Stan, tone it down, you’re going to give him a heart attack.” Came a sweet as sugar voice from inside the shack. A young lady with her hair done in a long braid opened the mesh door and punched Stan in the arm. Aside from rosy cheeks and the lack of a beard, her face was identical to Dipper’s. It didn’t take long for Wirt to recognise his boyfriend’s twin sister, Mabel. 

She turned to Wirt and gave a warming smile. “Sorry about this old grump. He thinks his comedy routine should double as a horror show.” 

“It’s only horror if they’re too sensitive.” Stan rubbed his arm. 

“You promised Dipper you’d play nice while Wirt was visiting.” she crossed her arms.

“I also promised your uncle Shermie that I wouldn’t let you do any hero work while staying over. And look how that turned out.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Stopping someone from stealing a car isn’t hero work.” Mabel shot back. 

“Sorry about Stan,” Dipper muttered under his breath. “He’s just jealous that his hero career was cut.” 

“Jealous?” Wirt stared at Dipper. “You said you didn’t tell them anything”

“He’s jealous of your youthfulness” Dipper squeezed Wirt’s shoulder. He leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “I haven’t told them a thing, I promise.”

“So he’s not mad?” Wirt clarified. 

“Nope, just a really bad comedian.” Dipper smiled.

Wirt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held onto Dipper’s hand to ground himself. It took a couple of moments but he felt his heart rate slow down. 

“Hey, is the kid okay?” Stan called from the porch. Wirt could hear the audible smack of Mabel’s fist against Stan’s meaty arms, followed by a hushed. “Ouch!”

“Ready to go in?” Dipper asked patiently, ignoring his relatives and their antics.

“I think so yes.” Wirt opened his eyes and gave a weak grin. 

***

The pair had wanted to spend the wait for dinner in the living room, enjoying the terrible public access television that Gravity Falls had to offer. However, Stan had other plans. Apparently Dipper’s second Grunkle, Ford as Stan called him, had failed to arrive in time to help like he had agreed. And now the couple were forced into the kitchen to help with dinner preparations. 

“Honestly you don’t need to help too much.” Dipper insisted as he kept an eye on the bubbling stew.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to see the shack you talk so much about.” Wirt smiled. He carefully peeled an onion before dicing it. Dipper could have sworn the onion grew plumper when he handed it to Wirt.

“So he talks about this place huh?” Stan looked over his shoulder and away from his chopping board. “Better be talking about how great it was.”

“Oh but of course.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “The 5 star accommodations, and food to match? How could I complain?”

“Didn’t you say that the walls were riddled with splinters?” Wirt asked.

“They add character!” Stan insisted. He banged his fist on to the chopping board, launching sliced up carrots into Dipper’s bubbling pot.

“And a surprising amount of fiber.” Dipper said. He placed a lid on the pot. 

“What?” Wirt looked at Dipper. 

“The kid chews just about anything. I’m surprised his power wasn’t something like eating anything.” Stan said, he took the onion slices from Wirt and poured them into a pan with some oil.

“I don’t think that’d be very fitting.” Wirt said. 

“Oh? And why’s that?” Stan snapped his fingers, summoning a small flame at the tip of his finger, which he then used to ignite the stove. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at Wirt. Challenging him to back up his claim.

Wirt could feel his stomach twisting under the gaze of the older man, but a gentle hand on his shoulder helped the practising hero ground himself. He took a deep breath and put on what felt like a confident grin. “Well, for one thing Dipper would need an appetite for such a power to be useful.”

There was a beat, Wirt held his breath, expecting some snide remark about how he didn’t know what he was talking about. Instead, Wirt watched as Stan slapped his knee in laughter. The old man’s wrinkled face lifted with glee as his hoarse laugh filled the shack. He accidentally knocked over the pan he had just put on the stove. 

Acting quickly, Wirt grew a strong vine from the flowers on the window sill, easily catching the pan.

“And here I thought you were all talk about him being a smart alec!” Stan grinned. He clapped a hand on Wirt’s back.

“Thank you?” Wirt looked to Dipper for help.

His boyfriend gave him a small smile and a thumbs up. “Told you he could hold his own.”

“He still looks scrawny as hell.” Stan pulled his pan out of the vine’s grasp. “Pretty good with his powers. You sure he ain’t some mask behind your back?”

“Grunkle Stan, Wirt would never lie to me like that.” Dipper frowned. He looked disgusted at the suggestion.

“Not many regular people are quick enough to catch something that fast. Especially with powers they don’t use regularly.” Stan said.

“I do use my power often.” Wirt said honestly.

“And what does a librarian need chloromancy for?” Stan asked.

“It helps me put away books faster.” Wirt said. “Not to mention I had a very excitable younger brother. If I wasn’t keeping an eye on him, there was no telling how much trouble he’d get in.”

Dipper held his breath as he watched his Uncle’s reaction. The old man eyed Wirt up and down, before shrugging and moving back to his cooking. “Jeez you really are dating a goody two shoes, aren’t you?” 

“You know me. Can’t help but stick to the rules.” Dipper said with an awkward chuckle.

“Only when it suits you.” Stan remarked. “Now toast the bread, I didn't bring you in here to play 20 questions.”

***

‘Ford’ was still nowhere to be seen, but the family had decided to start dinner without him. 

“If he thinks I’m going to wait for him to eat then he’s got another thing coming.” Stan said. 

With the use of his plant powers, Wirt was able to set the table rather quickly. He wondered why Mabel hadn’t been asked to help, but when he saw several burn marks hidden under the table cloth, he realised the risk the ever glitter throwing Mabel could be to the kitchen. It wasn’t long before the table had been set and all food was served. The three Pines and Wirt sat together at the table, enjoying the delicious food. The sound of clinking plates filled the air.

All was peaceful until a loud crash came from the living room, followed by an angry shout.

“Stanley what did you do to my mirror!”

Stan didn't get up from his seat, in fact he  acted as though he didn’t hear what had just transpired. Wirt remembered seeing the old man reach for his ears before they began eating. ‘Perhaps he turned off his hearing aids?’.

Dipper gave Wirt a smile. “We’re in the kitchen Grunkle Ford!”

Wirt turned to the doorway just in time to see a man with a similar face to Stan’s but with a much deeper cleft in his chin and much poofier hair. He wore a trench coat and red sweater over black dress pants. His clothes were scuffed and were burnt in multiple places. To the untrained eye it would have looked like the man had run wildly through the woods from some kind of monster. However Wirt was familiar with markings like those that were all over Ford’s clothing. They were from stray bullets that had nicked his clothing, narrowly avoiding him. 

“Stanley, what was the big idea with putting my mirror behind the couch!” Ford marched right up to his twin, his face red with rage.

Stan lazily looked up at Ford, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. He raised a finger and swallowed his food. “I can’t hear anything you're saying Sixer.” Stan pointed to the kitchen counter, where his hearing aids sat, keeping him deaf to the world around him.

“You knucklehead! I almost got crushed!” Ford reached to punch Stan, but he was stopped by Dipper. The young man had jumped out of his seat and grabbed a hold of Ford’s arm. Dipper also summoned a vine from the window sill to keep his uncle restrained.

“Grunkle Ford, I’m really happy you’re back in one piece. I was hoping to introduce you to my boyfriend, Wirt.” Dipper said. He nonchalantly gestured to Wirt.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten we had guests.” Ford’s cheeks turned red as he collected himself. “I apologise for my outburst. I’m usually much more composed. However, someone’s pettiness has affected that.”

“Still deaf as a post.” Stan pointed to his large ears. His mouth full of half eaten stew.

Ford rolled his eyes and walked over to Wirt. The old man wiped his hand on his dark pants before offering a six-fingered hand shake. Wirt politely returned the gesture with a firm hand. But as the pair shook hands, a painful realisation dawned upon them both. 

“You…” They both breathed. Their eyes locked into one another. 

Before Wirt could say anything, Stanford ran out of the room, and out of sight. 

Stan, Dipper and Mabel stared at Wirt, all thinking the same question. Wirt could feel their eyes boring into his skull, so he stood up, and excused himself. The young man made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. He splashed his face with some cold water and breathed deeply. He looked at the mirror above the sink, screamed, and tripped back into the bathtub.

“Calm down!” Dipper whispered. He stepped out of the mirror.

“How did you-”

“I’ve been copying Grunkle Ford’s power for ages.” Dipper said. “Now, would you mind explaining what that was just now?”

“So, remember how I thought I never met your uncles and was worried about a bad first impression?” Wirt asked. His tone sounded jovial despite his rattled nerves. “Well I don't need to worry about that anymore.”

“When did you meet Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked. He sat on the side of the bathtub.

“I was doing a nightly patrol of our campus. The security guards had asked for some help from the local hero guild. Someone was breaking in and taking the latest data found by the scientific teams. I was already on campus so the hero guild put me to the job.” Wirt said. He kept in his awkwardly sat position in the tub as he spoke. The shower curtain tangled with his long limbs. 

“So as I was walking around, I heard the guards calling for help, turned the corner and saw the tail coat of a man run down the hallway. ‘The light of the moon shone through the windows, guiding me through the dark to his eventual capture’. Is what I thought when I saw him turn down a dead end. But instead there was no one. There was the one way glass of the nearby lab door; but it was securely locked. The guards checked it anyway and found no one.”

“Right.” Dipper nodded along, tapping his chin.

“I walked along the floor, looking for any signs of the intruder; but alas he had slipped my grasp. The only person I found was one of the professors leaving after a late night at work. I had thought he was the intruder at first, since the first thing I saw were the tails of his coat, but it was a lab coat.” Wirt continued.

“But where does Ford fit into this?” Dipper asked.

“That professor dropped a roll of paper he was carrying. I thought it was some of his research, but when I reached down to pick it up. I noticed he had six fingers, which was not mentioned in the staff listings. And when I looked at his ID, it was a crudely faked card.” Wirt said. 

“Ooooh.” Dipper sucked in a breath. “And he realised you were the hero from that night?”

“There’s no way he didn’t.” Wirt said.

“Okay, things are messy, but, there’s nothing to worry about.” Dipper clapped his hands. “He knows that you know, but we don’t know he knows. So we can use this to our advantage.” 

“If he knows that we know, then he won’t try to deal with me to make sure I don’t blab?” wirt asked.

“But he can’t be sure that you know.” Dipper said. “As far as your story goes, you’re only a librarian. Just keep your cool and things should smooth over.”

“Considering how annoyed your Uncle Stan is, I doubt he’d want to cause too much more trouble.” Wirt said.

“Exactly.” Dipper smiled. “Now come on, dinner’s getting cold and trust me when I say you don’t want to fight Mabel for seconds.”

 Wirt watched as Dipper stood up offering his hand. The young man took a deep breath before accepting his boyfriend’s hand.

“That sounds lovely.” he agreed.

[revive-the-fandom]

Jack is an introvert not an extrovert or an ambivert.

I would like to thank my enablers @dangdiggitydang @belleyells @hobie-brown @everythingfeelslike-themovies @grahminradarin @ginnyofgryffindor here is your answer

Reasons why:

1. Jack has exactly 0 friends in the spirit world. Bunny knows him and hates him or is at least miffed by him, Tooth knows of him as does North and presumably Sandy but for wildly different reasons. None of them are his friends, and none of them give the impression of ever having met him before, I would even argue that Sandy has never met Jack before. Given that Sandy mentions the Leprechaun and Bunny mentions the Groundhog it’s safe to say that there are other spirits wandering the world who Jack could meet and possibly befriend. Considering that there are also Elves, Yetis and Sentient Eggs I’d say there’s also probably several other magical species that Jack could also befriend. However, since Jack doesn’t go to anyone or seem to have any other form of support outside of the Guardians and MiM, I’m assuming that he doesn’t have anyone that he considers a friend or that he trusts enough to go to. This implies that he’s not very good at making friends.

2. Jack gets on best with North. This may seem a little shallow, but you’ve heard of an extrovert forcibly befriending/adopting an introvert? That’s how I see this relationship. North initiates more or less all of their conversations. North is also the one that goes to check on Jack throughout the movie. Sandy may have identified that North is best suited to convince and calm Jack after his fight with Bunny, but North is the one who continually comes back to Jack. And Jack continually sticks close to North because their boundaries have been set and North has shown an interest and gained a level of trust from Jack.

3. Jack doesn’t include himself in conversations. I can remember very few moments off the top of my head in which Jack actually speaks to the Guardians, or anyone tangible, without being prompted. He goes to reconcile with Bunny unprompted, and that’s pretty much the only time I remember him starting a conversation.

4. He’s just sort of there when he’s around the Guardians. I’m pretty sure this one could be proof by itself. Jack just gets swept up in the Guardian’s plans and goes where they go without really giving much input, especially after Sandy’s death.

5. I’m pretty sure he’s acting most of the time. He’s definitely acting in the Globe Room, no one is that calm after being kidnapped and teleported across the globe. Plus he also just met like, the spirit world version of A-List celebrities. You don’t get thrown in front of Beyonce, Keanu Reeves or Harrison Ford and not freak the fuck out. He’s 100% acting in the globe room and continues to act throughout the movie in a way that makes him seem more… friendly and open. He forgets himself in the Globe Room and gets overwhelmed by anger and betrayal so the act slides a bit but he picks it up in time to go walking with North. He lets the act go when North explains his purpose, his centre but pulls it back up for the sleigh ride. He’s noticeably concerned and out of his depth throughout the Tooth Palace scene but he completely drops his act once Pitch reveals himself and he feels threatened. The act goes back up in time to talk to Tooth by the mural and slips when she reveals that the key to fixing literally all of his problems was under his nose the whole time. He tunes his act to the max during the tooth collection scene. He lets it slip a bit so he can be more honest with Tooth in Jamie’s bedroom but he clams back up when the Guardians come back in. He loses the act a little in front of Pitch but he holds it together enough until Sandy dies, then he drops it entirely to talk to North. He lets it down for Easter, then brings it back to face Pitch. The Guardians are disappointed in him and the act is gone and stays gone for the most part. He lapses a little at the end to tell Pitch to fuck off, but like, politely.

6. I disagree with the ending and so do a decent amount of others. I think we all agree that the ending was too quick. It didn’t resolve Jack and Pitch’s relationship at all, it kind of retconned it by saying ‘they 100% hate each other and don’t care if the other dies’ when Jack consistently displays sympathy for Pitch and Pitch clearly feels betrayed and lonely. I would stretch this further and say that the Oath was out of character. Earlier in the movie Jack was very much opposed to taking the Oath, and that was partially because of the way it was presented to him. He clearly wasn’t happy with the noise, the spotlighting, the attention etc. Jack learns over the course of the movie that being a Guardian isn’t about gaining believers, gaining power, gaining influence, hiding away and bribing people to do what you want. He learns that the Guardians have lost their way a little, gotten distracted by the requirements of their jobs and forgotten why they took their jobs in the first place. Jack is supposed to show the Guardians that it’s not about impressive presentation, and it’s not about the scale or reach of their jobs. Jack is supposed to show that it’s the little things, by spending time looking at the bigger picture they miss the point. Jack’s relationship with Jamie and the other Burgess kids highlights that sometimes it’s better to take a personal interest. If a teacher teaches a class, gives a lecture or something, they will reach a larger audience because they generalise. But some kids can’t be taught like this, a lot of kids don’t benefit from generalised teaching. So they get tutors or TA’s or the teacher helps them personally after they’ve taught the class. It would also be an interesting way to make the movie more… is multi-faith the right word? If the Guardians focussed on their kids, the kids who believed in them, then maybe they could start to notice that some of these kids have other Guardians looking out for them? But anyway, what I’m saying is that the ending kind of misses the point of Jack being detail oriented instead of big picture. Yes, he needs to take the Oath to be a Guardian, but does he have to do it with a big audience? There are Yetis, Fairies, Eggs, Elves, the Guardians and the Burgess kids. And once Jack takes the Oath they all cheer. To me this feels… contrary to what we’ve seen so far. Not only would this typically make a shy person uncomfortable, but Jack’s been invisible for 3 centuries. He’s probably overwhelmed already, a more intimate setting, or simply just more private setting, would have fit him better. Did all the Guardians have to be there? Couldn’t it have just been North and Jack and Jamie and Baby Tooth?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: The way the last chapters are like one slap after the other -Danny

Words: 3,761

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty-Two: Trapped.

Harry, Neville and Luna climbed onto the air... and stayed there. Ron, Erick, Mel, Hermione and Ginny stared at them.

"What?" Harry asked stupidly.

"What do you mean 'what', you idiot?" Mel scowled.

"How're we supposed to get on?" said Ron in disbelief. "When we can't see the things?"

"Oh it's easy," Luna slid back to the ground. "Come here..." 

She guided each of them to a different Thestral. Erick didn't like the way he could feel the creature yet not see it. Mel got used to it quickly, holding tightly onto the invisible crest. The rest were in different states of awkwardness.

"This is mad," Ron said quietly. "Mad... if I could just see it —"

"You'd better hope it stays invisible," said Harry. "We all ready, then? Okay..." He stared down. "Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London, then— Er... if you know... where to go..." 

Mel was lifted off the ground, she swore and closed her eyes, which turned out to be a bad idea, because the moment she opened them again she was remarkably disoriented. They were no longer in the castle, and all she could see were mountains.

"These things are fast!" Ginny said with a mix of excitement and dread in her voice.

"I — hate — this!" Erick bellowed behind her. "Why do you have to get into these kinds of situations all the time?"

"Shut up!" Ron responded. "Some of us are trying not to fall!"

Mel kept her mouth shut the whole trip, it reminded her a bit of the time she travelled in the Ford Anglia, but it was definitely not as safe, and therefore, not as enjoyable. 

When the sky changed from purple to dark blue, the Thestrals landed on the city. Ron stumbled onto the ground, Hermione and Ginny did the same, though without falling. Neville jumped off his Thestral while Harry slid off of his in a swift motion. 

Mel lifted one leg with difficulty, stiff from the time she'd spent in the same awkward position. Her legs faltered and ended up crashing against Erick. He grunted, holding her in place. 

"Thank you for reminding me I'm not safe..."

"Don't be such a baby," Mel's gaze landed on Harry and his tousled hair. "How does he look so unbothered after this?"

"That annoys you now? You used to drool about it," Erick raised a brow. "I call that progress..."

"Where do we go from here, then?" Luna asked. 

"Over here," Harry guided them to an old telephone box and opened the door. "Come on!" 

Ron and Ginny walked in at once; Hermione, Neville, and Luna were next. Mel and Erick stared at each other.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" The boy complained.

"Think about it like this," She responded, "you'll finally receive the group hug you so desperately need!"

"Sod off," He rolled his eyes.

 They were uncomfortably close to each other. Harry spoke over their complaints.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six, two, four, four, two!" 

Ron dialled it.  

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Mel Dumbledore, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Erick Flint... We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

She was given a badge with her name and the caption 'Rescue Mission' under it.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" The boy said, Mel felt a stung on her forehead, Harry was in pain. "Now can we move?"

The light was dimmer than it had been by day. There were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but he saw as the lift slid smoothly to a halt that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening." 

This was definitely not how she had imagined her first visit to the Ministry would be, but it was surely interesting. It was dark and cold, reminded her of Grimmauld Place... which wasn't a good thing.

"Come on," Harry walked past the fountain to the elevator. He pressed nine, and soon enough they were standing in front of a black door. "Let's go."

Mel shivered when she stared into the long, quiet corridor and got closer to Erick. He reached out blindly for her hand in an attempt to calm himself too.

"Okay, listen," Harry stopped again, turning to see them. "Maybe... maybe a couple of people should stay here as a — as a lookout, and —"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" asked Ginny. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Harry," said Neville.

"Let's get on with it," Ron insisted.

Harry's face reflected how much he didn't want them to go, but he didn't say anything. 

In his dream, Harry had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. 

Just as he was gazing ahead at the doors opposite him, trying to decide which was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

"What was that about?" Ron spoke quietly.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in from," said Ginny.

"Brilliant," Mel squeezed Erick's hand. "This is fine."

"How're we going to get back out?" asked Neville.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," said Harry tensely. "We won't need to get out till we've found Sirius —"

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione warned.

"Where do we go, then, Harry?" Ron questioned.

"I don't — In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room — that's this one — and then I went through another door into a room that kind of... glitters. We should try a few doors... I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep-green water, big enough for all of them to swim in, which contained a number of pearly white objects that were drifting around lazily in the liquid.

"What're those things?"

"Dunno." 

"Are they fish?"

"Aquavirius maggots! Dad said the Ministry were breeding —"

"No," said Hermione dryly. "They're brains." 

"Brains?"

"Yes... I wonder what they're doing with them?"

"I don't. I don't wonder at all. Please let's keep going?"

"Let's get out of here," Harry agreed. "This isn't right, we need to try another door —"

"There are doors here too," said Ron.

"In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one. I think we should go back and try from there."

"Wait!" Hermione stopped Luna from closing the door. "Flagrate!" 

She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery X appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue, and when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

"I love you, 'Mione," Mel sighed.

"Good thinking," said Harry. "Okay, let's try this one —"

They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room [...] there was a raised stone dais in the center of the lowered floor, and upon this dais stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked, and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. 

"Who's there?" said Harry.

"Careful!" 

Harry and Mel reached the bottom one after the other. 

"Sirius?" Harry muttered.

Mel studied the veil: It wasn't particularly magical-looking, but the way it kept moving even though there was no wind... Harry circled the archway and she stepped closer. 

"Let's go," called Hermione. "This isn't right, guys, come on, let's go..."

The girl felt the need to reach out and touch it, then she caught something in the movement of the fabric, whispers.

"Guys, let's go, okay?" insisted Hermione.

"Okay... What are you saying?" Harry asked, but Mel was barely registering his words.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" 

"Someone's whispering behind there," Harry mumbled. "Is that you, Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," Ron said from behind them.

"Can't anyone else hear it?"

"I can hear them too," Luna was staring at the veil with curiosity. "There are people in there!"

"What do you mean, 'in there'? There isn't any 'in there,' it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there — Harry, stop it, come away — Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!" 

"Sirius... Yeah..."

The anger in Hermione's voice felt exaggerated, Mel stepped closer to the veil, she stretched out her hand and —

Harry caught it and drew it down, he dragged her several steps away from the veil and shook his head.

"Let's go."

"Are you okay?" Erick whispered once they re-entered the dark room.

"Yeah," She mumbled, watching the doors swirl around her. "I... I got distracted, that's all. I'm fine."

Harry approached a new door. 

"It's... locked..." He grunted.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" said Ron helping Harry push harder. "Bound to be!"

"Get out of the way!" said Hermione at once. "Alohomora!"

"Sirius's knife!" Harry offered. 

It didn't work, his knife was now melted.

"Right, we're leaving that room," said Hermione.

"But what if that's the one?" said Ron.

"It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream," said Hermione.

"You know what could be in there?" said Luna excitedly.

"Nothing good if it's locked," Erick said darkly. 

"Something blibbering, no doubt," Hermione added.

Neville giggled under his breath, but it came out like a whimper.

Harry pushed open the next door and let out a quiet gasp.

"This is it! This way!"

"Oh look!" said Ginny excitedly.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"Keep going!" said Harry.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" 

"Nothing here is normal," Mel muttered. "Not even for a wizard — This... I definitely want to be an Unspeakable."

"You're thinking about that now?" Erick asked in annoyance.

"It's not like I have something better to do! I mean, we're on a suicidal mission —"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use that word..."

"Do you prefer the term 'field trip'?"

"This is it," Harry spoke over their bickering. "It's through here —"

Everyone had their wands at the ready now, prepared for the next indications. Harry opened the next door.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

"You said it was row ninety-seven."

"Yeah," Harry started to walk.

"We need to go right, I think," Hermione muttered. "Yes... that's fifty-four..."

"Keep your wands out," Harry reminded them.

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione called after a while.

"There's nothing here," Mel stated.

"He's right down at the end," The boy insisted. "You can't see properly from here..."

Last year it hadn't take Wormtail more than a minute to attack Harry as soon as he was close enough. It felt like they wanted him to keep going, which put her on edge. She held onto her wand and made sure to have enough space to use her hands in case she needed to hex more than one thing at the same time.

"He should be near here," Harry insisted with shaky breaths. "Anywhere here... really close..."

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Somewhere about... here..."

"This isn't right," Mel declared. "It doesn't make sense... this hall is clear."

"He might be...Or maybe..." Harry rushed to the next end of the hall, but this time he was the only one that moved. 

"Harry?" Hermione tried again. 

"What?" He spat.

"I... I don't think Sirius is here."

"Okay," Erick spoke, sounding impressively calm. "Are we sure Harry wasn't —"

"I swear if you say 'dreaming', I'll hex you," Mel interrupted. 

"Sirius isn't here!" Erick insisted in an angry whisper. "What possibilities are left?"

Mel looked up at him. "We don't want this to be one of those."

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"What?" Harry spoke again, this time a bit more desperately. 

"Have you seen this?"

Mel followed Ron's gaze and got closer, everyone else following along.

"What?"

"It's — it's got your name on..." 

"My name?" 

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter

"What is it?" Ron inquired. "What's your name doing down here? I'm not here — none of the rest of us are here..."

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione.

"Why not? It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't, Harry," pleaded Neville.

"It's got my name on," said Harry.

"So what?" Mel frowned, something about the initials felt strangely familiar, but she couldn't tell exactly what it was. "Sirius isn't here, we should go back and try to contact my mum or Lupin — Do not —"

Harry reached for the orb and grabbed it firmly. Mel swore, everyone stood around them with a tense air. For a brief second, nothing happened. Then she straightened in her place at the sound of soft fabric brushing against the floor. She turned around, only to face the tip of someone's wand.

"Very good, Potter," Lucius Malfoy sneered. "Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me." 

She heard as the rest of her friends turned.

"To me, Potter," the man repeated without lowering his wand. "To me." 

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

The Death Eaters around them laughed and Mel closed her eyes in a moment of bitter realization. It had been a lie.

"The Dark Lord always knows!" Said one of the cloaked figures, who sounded very much like a woman.

"Always. Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"I want to know where Sirius is!"  The woman repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"You've got him. He's here. I know he is."

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo."

"Don't do anything," Harry said behind her, though she couldn't tell to who he was talking to. "Not yet —"

"You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!"

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I know Sirius is here," Harry insisted. "I know you've got him!"

"They don't have him," Mel growled. "He tricked you. Somehow found out you can see his thoughts — That thing you're holding, that's what they'd been looking for all along..."

"Right, Miss Dumbledore. It'll be a bit disappointing for your uncle, the fact that it took you this long... As for you, it's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter. Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands." 

"Dumbledore?" The woman tilted her head. "Your father was more attractive than you, girly."

"Go on, then," Harry spoke, ignoring the woman.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt."

"Yeah, right!" The boy laughed bitterly. "I give you this — prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

"Accio Proph —"

Harry yelled 'Protego!' before the woman could finish.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter. Very well, then —"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Malfoy shouted. "If you smash it — !"

The woman pulled off her hood and Mel's stomach dropped. In front of them was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You need more persuasion?" Bellatrix said. "Very well — take the smallest one. Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

The group closed tightly around Ginny while Harry and Mel stepped to the front.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," Harry told them. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he? ...So, what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" Bellatrix stopped smiling. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," Harry insisted. Mel desperately tried to think of a way to get rid of Death Eaters in one move. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

The adults cursed and hissed loudly.

"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix asked in outrage.

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got no problem saying Vol —"

"Shut your mouth! You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare —"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry asked. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

"STUPEF —"

"NO! "

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. 

Two figures, pearly white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak. Their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

". . . at the Solstice will come a new . . ." said the figure of an old, bearded man.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared — he dares —" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. "— He stands there — filthy half-blood —"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" bawled Malfoy. 

". . . and none will come after . . ." said the figure of a young woman. 

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," Harry asked again. 

"Do not play games with us, Potter," Malfoy spat.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry, tapping his foot anxiously.

But Harry wasn't the type to tap his foot like that. At the sound of a whimper, he stopped. 

"What?" Hermione hissed.

"Dumbledore never told you that the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" 

"I — what?" Harry sounded genuinely startled. "What about my scar?"

"What?" Hermione insisted.

"Can this be?" said Malfoy.

"Listen, if you could cut the dramatics and just spit it out," Mel spoke. "We don't have time, do we? So you either explain —"

"Look at the little brat," Bellatrix sneered. "Acting all haughty — You think that being a Dumbledore is enough to scare us, girl?"

"Well, a Lastname makes you think you're worth more than dragon's dung," She stepped a little forward. "I guess we're not that different."

"You little —"

Mel raised her wand slightly and Erick grabbed her arm. At the same time, she heard Harry turn to look at the others and hurriedly whisper 'Smash shelves —'

"Calm down!" Erick said. 

"— when I say go —" Harry finished.

"Well, well..." Malfoy stared at her friend with a dark smile. "Solomon won't be pleased..."

"I couldn't care less about it," Erick replied tensely. "I'm no longer his son."

"And with good reason," Malfoy's smile widened. "Draco will tell your friends about the new situation, no doubt..."

"I'm sure, I want him to," The boy said calmly. "Otherwise I broke Goyle's nose for nothing."

A man stepped forward, but Malfoy held him back, Mel spoke again.

"What's the prophecy about?"

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy raised a brow. "Well, this explains why neither of you came earlier, the Dark Lord wondered why you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording..."

"Did he?" Harry's attention was back on Lucius. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

"Why? Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him."

"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you... Haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me? And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" Bellatrix laughed. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

"So he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he? Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it — and Bode?"

"Very good, Potter, very good... But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell —"

"NOW!" 

At once, the group shouted: "REDUCTO!" 

The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor —

"RUN!"

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

[breannacasey]

48 “I’ll do it for you”, Nate/Sophie, leverage

The Be There Job

Sophie Devereaux/Nate Ford. Fluff. 676 words. Read on ao3

They were in the middle of rehearsal. There was a smell, like a burning smell, but no one could tell where it was coming from. Until the fire alarm went off and the theater went ablaze in what seemed like the blink of an eye. In the end, it was more fear than harm. Everyone was alright, just a little shaken. They still all had to be checked for smoke inhalation and, since she stayed behind to make sure everyone got out, Sophie was transported to the hospital just to be extra careful.

Sophie now lied down in a hospital bed, an oxygen mask on her face, feeling absolutely exhausted. Her students were all perfectly fine. It was a relief. She didn’t know what she would’ve done if anyone had been hurt. They were her responsibility. It was her building that caught fire, her drama school. She felt terrible.

               “It wasn’t your fault.”

Nate sat on a chair next to her. He hadn’t let go of her hands ever since she’d made it into this room. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so much concern in his face before. It made her feel calm and reassured to see him here, sitting by her side. Here, giving her the support she needed, not out there trying to figure out what happened. He’d grown so much over the years.

               “Will you get out of my mind?”

               “Sorry, I can’t help it. Your thoughts are loud.”

               “I know it’s not my fault, but it’s still my responsibility.”

               “Your students are all fine. I made sure. And Eliot said he’d help with anything you need to get the theater up and running again. The others are on board too. They all wish they could be here.”

               “You told them?”

               “You know Hardison keeps tabs on us wherever they go. Eliot called me, they were all worried.”

               “I hope they’re not coming back before they finish that job.”

Sophie had heard all about it from Parker. She didn’t want them to give up on the good they could do just to fly back home for her. She knew at least Hardison would want to, maybe Parker would be more rational about it and want to finish the job first now that they knew Sophie was fine, but Eliot would certainly be torn.

               “I convinced them not too. They’ll come by when they’re done.”

               “Good.”

               “Yes. So now that we’ve covered all your worries, you should try to get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

               “I still have to talk to the insurance people.”

               “I’ll do it for you. I know how to handle them. You need to sleep.”

Nate leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She squeezed his hand to thank him, and found herself unwilling to let go. She pulled him closer, craving his presence next to her.

               “Stay and hold me until I fall asleep?”

He immediately climbed in her bed and wrapped her into his arms. It was too easy and she could see right through him. As calm and strong as he tried to make himself appear, he’d been scared too.

               “How worried were you about me?”

               “What?” He feigned ignorance.

               “Nate, you should know better by now than to try and put up an act for me. Or did you forget you married the best grifter in the world?”

               “Someone isn’t afraid to sound conceited.” He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding and the façade fell with it. “I was afraid I’d have to throw you another funeral. One you wouldn’t be able to attend this time.”

               “I would never let you get rid of me that easy, it took way too long for us to get here. We deserve a lot more time together.”

               “Glad we agree on that.”

They shared a smile. Sophie let her head rest against Nate’s chest. She could feel the events of the day weighing her down now. Lying down safely in her husband’s arms, she fell asleep in mere minutes.

[thelastspeecher]

6 - Birb Guck AU (or if that's too on the nose, feel free to pick a different AU I just am fond of wings)

6. Wings

Okay, so, the wings prompt ended up being more hinted at than explicitly being a major part of this ficlet.  But I mean, the birb Gucks have wings, and this is all about the Gucks being birbs, so…

(also this ended up being a lot longer than I planned, so I put half of it under a read more)

Prompt List

——————————————————————————————

              Stan stomped onto the porch andshook the snow off his boots.  He dug thepostcard out of his back pocket to make sure he was at the right place.

              Yep.  Looks like.  He knocked on the front door.

              “One moment!” a voice called.  Stan looked around, taking in thesnow-covered ground, the beat-up truck in the driveway, and movement at theedge of the nearby forest.  He squinted.

              What the hell is scampering aroundover there?  Squirrels?  No, too big. Raccoons, maybe?  The dooropened.  Stan stopped trying to identifythe local wildlife.  He looked at the manwho had answered the door.

              “Hello, Stanley,” Ford saidawkwardly.  Stan stuffed the postcardback in his pocket.

              “Hello to you, too.  So, what’s going on?  You just sent me a card saying I need to come,but didn’t say why.”

              “Yes, well…”  Ford trailed off.  He swallowed. “It was something that needed an in-person explanation.”

              “All right.  Can we have this conversation indoors?  I’m freezing my balls off here, Ford.”  Ford rolled his eyes at Stan’s choice ofwords, but stepped to the side, allowing Stan to come in.  Stan walked inside.  “You really went for that whole mad scientistaesthetic, didn’t you?”

              “Not for long,” Fordmumbled.  He closed the door.  “I’ll need to start childproofing my homesoon, so much of this will go into rooms that aren’t common area.”  Stan stared at him.

              “…Childproofing?” he asked.  Ford nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back.

              “How are you at babysitting?”Ford asked.  Stan opened and closed his moutha few times.  “I recall you sneaking awaya few times during high school to visit Carla while she was babysitting.”

              “Yeah, but I wasn’t actuallybabysitting, I was just there to help,” Stan said.  He shook his head.  “Back up. You’re- you’re a dad?”  Fordturned red.  “There’s no way you got somegirl pregnant.”

              “It’s- it’s complicated.”

              “Holy Moses, I-”  Stan looked away.  “That’s why you wanted me to see you?  Just so I could babysit your rugrat?  And here I was, thinking you might wanna burythe hatchet.”

              “Stanley-”

              “Y’know, you coulda just hiredsome teenage girl.  I dunno if they allhave to, but Carla said a lot of girls do special classes before they start babysitting.  I don’t really know shit about kids.  I’m just good at keeping them entertained.”

              “Fiddleford is more than willingto show you the ropes.”

              “Who the hell is-” Stan started.

              “But we need a long-term babysitter,”Ford interrupted.  “Someone we cantrust.  And…I know we’ve had ourdifferences, but you’re the only person I trust enough to watch my child,” Fordsaid quietly.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “Bullshit.  You just want a free or cheap babysitter.”

              “Stanley, just-”  Ford ran a hand through his hair.  “Follow me, and you’ll understand what Imean.”

              “If you say so,” Stan muttered,stuffing his hands into his pockets.  Hefollowed Ford back towards the front door and then up a nearby staircase.  They arrived at an attic landing.  Stan looked around the room.  “So, what, is this the nursery or-”  He fell silent at the sight of what couldonly be described as a large nest made of pillows and blankets, tucked into acorner.  Nestled in the center of thenest, surrounded by what seemed to be a pile of brown and red feathers, was alarge egg.  Stan closed his eyes.  “Ford…”

              “I know how this looks,” Fordsaid quickly.  Stan raised an eyebrow athim.

              “Like you’ve lost yourmarbles?  Yeah.  That’s an egg.  Not a baby.”

              “When it hatches-”

              “I’m not a zookeeper, Ford!” Stansnapped.  Ford scowled.

              “Let me explain.”

              “I don’t know what bullshit weirdscience stuff you get up to here, but I’m not gonna watch whatever hatchesoutta that egg, okay?  Knowing you, youfound a way to bring dinosaurs back and that’s a fucking T. rex.”

              “Stan-”

              “I can’t believe you had me comeall the way here for this!  I was inArizona!  I came from T-shirt and shortskinda weather to a goddamn blizzard.  Fora fucking egg?” Stan demanded.  Fordrubbed his face.  Out of the corner ofhis eye, Stan saw movement.  He lookedback at the nest.  The pile of feathers nextto the nest was moving.  Stan steppedback, nearly treading on Ford’s toes.  “Whatthe hell is that?  Is that whatever laidthe egg?”  The feather-covered thing stoodup, revealing itself to be not the vicious dinosaur-like monster Stan had beenimagining.  Rather, it looked human.  If humans were covered in feathers, hadtalons for nails, and had eyes that were completely black.

              “Please do not refer to my partnerin that manner,” Ford said.  Stan stared athim.  “Stanley, this is Fiddleford.  He’s my…” Ford swallowed nervously.  “Myboyfriend.”

              “You-”  Stan looked back and forth between Ford andthe bird-person Ford had said was named Fiddleford.  “What the fuck is happening?!”

              “Fiddleford belongs to a speciesnot native to this planet.  A fact I wasunaware of until he laid the egg you see in the nest,” Ford said in amaddeningly calm voice.  Stan kneaded hisforehead.  “He can adopt a form that ishuman in appearance, though has preferred his natural form while spending timein the nest.”

              “I…”  Stan squeezed his eyes shut.  “There’s too much going on here.”

              “I suppose it would be overwhelming.”  Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.  “Let’s go talk in the kitchen.  This might go down better with a beer or two.”

              “Fuck beers, I need some hardliquor to deal with this,” Stan croaked.

              “I have some of that as well.  Come along.”

—– 

              Stan stared at Ford, sittingacross from him at the kitchen table.

              “You came here to studysupernatural weird shit?” he asked. After ushering Stan back downstairs and giving him a glass of whiskey,Ford had launched into an explanation of why he was in Gravity Falls.  Ford nodded. “And you came here because it’s got the most supernatural weird shit?”

              “The most anomalies, yes,” Fordsaid, clasping his hands in front of him. “Should you agree to stay here, you will come across many of theseanomalies yourself.”  Stan rubbed hisforehead.

              “And the bird guy upstairs, Fiddlesticks-”

              “Fiddleford.”

              “Whatever.  You met him here?”

              “No.  We were college roommates.”

              “How the fuck would a college letsomeone covered in feathers go there?”

              “I told you, he has a secondaryform that resembles a human.  He utilizesthat form when going out in public. Until recently, I didn’t even realize he wasn’t from this planet.”

              “He’s a weird thing but he’s notfrom here?” Stan asked.  Ford shook hishead.

              “Anomalies tend to gravitatetoward this region, but they can be found elsewhere.”

              “Okay.”  Stan took a long drink from his whiskey.  He set it back down on the table with a smallsigh.  “Tell me about this thing with theegg.”

              “Like I said upstairs, Fiddlefordisn’t just my research partner.  He’s alsomy-”  Ford’s voice cracked.  He cleared his throat.  “Fiddleford is my- my boyfriend.  Approximately a month ago, he began behaving oddly.  He built the nest you saw upstairs and sleptwithin it instead of our bed.  About aweek after he built the nest, he brought me upstairs and showed me theegg.  He then explained to me that he hadlaid it, it was our child, and that he was not from Earth.”

              “Goddamn,” Stan muttered.  Ford cracked a small smile.

              “Precisely.”  Ford watched Stan closely.  Stan frowned at him.

              “What?”

              “I’m just- you don’t appear tohave any reaction to Fiddleford being my- my-”

              “Ford, I’ve known you were gaysince sixth grade.  Chill.”  Stan shrugged.  “It’s kinda weird that he laid the egg, Imean, I might not have been that good at biology, but I always thought gals hadthe eggs.  But he’s an alien, so-”

              “Yes,” Ford said quietly.  “Our reproductive systems aren’t that different,however.  Otherwise reproduction wouldnot have occurred.”

              “Ah.  I get it.” Stan leaned back in his chair.  “I’vemet a couple people like him.  Guys whoused to be gals.  Gals that used to beguys.”  Ford stared at him.  “People like that end up on the streets alot.  And I’ve been on the streets prettymuch since Pops kicked me out.”

              “…Right.”  At the sound of footsteps, both Stan and Fordlooked over.  In the entryway to thekitchen was a gangly man with sandy blonde hair, carrying the egg fromupstairs.  “Fiddleford, I was wonderingif you would join us.”

              “I thought it’d be right to dothat,” the man said, taking a seat at the table, resting the egg in his lap.  “I feel awful bad ‘bout startlin’ ya likethat, Stanley.”  Stan stared at him.  “Stanford told ya ‘bout my human form, right?”

              “Uh, yeah.”

              “Well, this is it.”

              “Cool,” Stan mumbled.  Fiddleford looked at Ford.

              “How’s the conversation goin’?”

              “I was just about to explain whywe were asking him to babysit for us,” Ford replied.  Fiddleford nodded and made a “carry on”gesture.  Ford cleared his throat.  “A few days ago, Fiddleford and I realizedhow much care and attention the egg and eventual child needs.  We can take some time off here and there, butfrom what Fiddleford has told me, his species raises children communally.  As such, hatchlings require around the clockcare.  Something that we will not be ableto provide.  At least, we won’t be ableto provide it if we wish to continue our research.”  Stan leaned forward.

              “You don’t just want ababysitter.  You want a nanny,” he said.

              “That would be a better way todescribe it, yes,” Fiddleford said.  Stanchewed on his lip.  “We understand if youhave a job or relationship or somethin’ else that would prevent ya from stayin’here to help, but Stanford felt that you were our best shot.”

              “…I don’t have either of thosethings,” Stan said.  He straightened inhis chair.  “I also don’t have a lottacash.  I can’t exactly move into anapartment here.”

              “No, you’d stay with us,”Fiddleford said quickly.  “We’d provideroom and board in exchange fer yer help.”

              “That sounds like a pretty sweetdeal, not gonna lie,” Stan said quietly. He grimaced.  “But, like I said,Ford, I don’t know shit about taking care of kids.”

              “Don’t worry, I’ll be helpin’ yawith that,” Fiddleford said.  “I need toteach Stanford, too.”  He shrugged.  “And even if ya did know how to take care of kids,I’d still need to give ya some lessons. Hatchlings have dif’rent requirements than human children.  Groomin’ is dif’rent, diet is dif’rent, and,of course, there’s flight lessons.  But I’dbe handlin’ that.”

              “Flight lessons?”

              “We have feathers fer a reason,”Fiddleford said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Again, I’d handle that.”  Stanwas silent.  “Well?  Are ya willin’ to babysit?”

              “Nanny, you mean,” Stansaid.  He chewed on the inside of hischeek, thinking.

              This is weird.  But this weirdness is better than beingchased down by loan sharks and trying to sell shitty infomercial crap.  Stan sighed.

              “All right.  I’ll do it.”

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

Fraxus Anastasia au 1

I don’t think you need to have seen the movie, but I wanted to write it :)

Part one of the fic under the cut

The clothes are itchy and as a 13 years old Laxus reaches for the collar, his hand is slapped away by his very disgruntled looking chambermaid. The girl huffs and he apologetically removes his hand, allowing her to fuss over him. "Are you nervous?" Evergreen asks, mercifully avoiding his eyes as she forces him on a chair so she can reach his hair. He could attempt to lie, but the younger girl has a knack for seeing right through him, so he foregoes that.

"Yes", he admits reluctantly. His estranged grandfather's castle is immense and the walls hold no familiarity to him. Not once has his grandfather attempted to contact him and then, all of a sudden, he banished Laxus' father. He has no idea what goes through the old man's head and although he would never say  it out loud, the uncertainty unnerves him.

"All these people are gathered here today to see the new heir to the throne and the reason why the old one disappeared is unknown. People will talk."

"They always will." As his grandfather appears in the doorway, Evergreen hurries to bow before the man. He acknowledges her with a polite gesture, but also tells her to leave for he would like to talk to his grandson. Evergreen gives Laxus a thumbs-up before she goes and he nods in return.

"She's a spunky thing I've heard. Bossy, but good company." Ignoring the piss-poor attempt at small talk, Laxus decides to get to the heart of the matter. "Why am I here? Where is my father?" Sighing, his grandfather's face turns somber. "My son is an awful man", he plainly states and immediately, Laxus jumps to defend his father. "He's not!" he yells. His father is strict, true, but that's because he loves Laxus as well as the common folk. He's harsh because it's needed.

"You may not understand it yet." His grandfather looks at him with an expression that can only be pity and Laxus feels the disdain crawling underneath his skin. With a pat on the head that Laxus tries to dodge, his grandfather bids him farewell. "I'll see you in a half hour. Tonight is not about Ivan, it's about you. Try to have fun, won't you?"

Laxus is decidedly not having fun. He has two friends in total and neither of them are present at the ball. Evergreen is not allowed to come to occassions like these and Bickslow's skills as a jester in training apparently aren't needed today. Skirting around people is harder than expected, but Laxus manages to reach the buffet tables.

While he's wondering whether anybody would notice it if he hid underneath the table, someone tugs on his sleeve. "Excuse me", a greenhaired child says and points at a pile of creampuffs on a stand. "Can you give me one? I can't reach them", he explains, sounding terribly bored. Since he has nothing better to do, Laxus fulfills the request.

Munching on his creampuff, the kid stares at Laxus with an unsettling amount of concentration. "Would you like to dance? I like dancing, but if I asked anyone else, I reckon I'd be swung through the room like a broomstick. I'm not tall enough to keep up with any adults and the other parents were sensible enough to leave their children at home."

The dry tone of his voice forces a snort out of Laxus. "I'm not good at this", he warns and the child shrugs. "Practice makes perfect."

It can't even be called practice, because Laxus hasn't received a single lesson in ballroom dancing in his whole life and the other child seems to have grown up doing nothing but. They unanimously agree to settle on a bench, their feet a sensible distance away from each other (Laxus truly does feel sorry for the kid) and a platter of snacks between them. Conversation comes more natural to Laxus, although it's a very stilted one on his side. It's a blessing that the other kid is a goood listener and doesn't seem to mind Laxus' awkwardness.

Just as his nerves are getting settled, his grandfather appears before them and Laxus feels like crawling in a ditch again. His grandfather coughs, hinting for the other kid to leave. He doesn't. Instead he blinks slowly at the tsar before offering him a cup of water, which his grandfather takes after a short pause where the man clearly doesn't know how to react.

A berating outcry of "Frederick!" is heard before a lady yanks the boy from the bench, apologising profusely and attempts to force her kid to do the same thing. "I don't acknowledge that name. If you absolutely must, you may refer to me as 'the infant formerly known as Frederick', though I'd prefer it if you called me 'Freed'. Frederick Justine sounds terrible, while Freed Justine has a nicer ring to it. It's like a tongue in cheek reference to the things our family values: freedom and justice."

"Why don't you go all the way and demand to be called Freedom?" Laxus asks before he can stop himself and Frederick? Freed? rolls his eyes. "Because it sounds fucking stupid", he scoffs, tone strongly implying that he thinks Laxus is a moron.

Before he can retort with some snappy answer (not that he has one ready, but it's the thought that counts), Freed's mom has dragged him away and he can hear every berating word the woman utters as she physically removes him from the ballroom. There goes Laxus' only form of entertainment.

"That was something", his grandfather bemuses and Laxus gives him a questioning gaze. "Aren't you mad? He seriously disrespected you there." His grandfather snorts. "He's ten at most, of course I'm not going to berate a kid for being a kid. In fact, I think it should be more encouraged in the upper circles of society."

That doesn't sound like something the grandfather his father used to talk about would say and it momentarily throws Laxus for a loop. His grandfather seems to take note of his confusion, but he chooses to put it aside for the moment and Laxus is grateful for that.

"Here", his grandfather says and hands him a pocket watch. Their family symbol graces its front lid and when he turns it around he can see the third rule of departing (though our paths may have diverged, you must continue to live out your life with all your might, you must never consider your own life to be something insignificant, and you must never forget about your friends for as long as you live) written on it.

"This was a wedding gift made for your mother", his grandfather explains and plucks a necklace with a tiny, little key out of his pocket. He inserts the tiny object in the watch and the clock piece jumps open to reveal the rotating image of a young, blonde woman in a field of flowers. As the itty bitty figure slowly spins, a melody can be heard and Laxus can't help but gasp as he recognises the lullaby his mother used to sing.

"You can have it." With shaking hands, Laxus takes the objects from his grandfather and puts the watch in his pocket and hangs the key around his neck. "Thanks", he mutters, not looking at his grandfather. He's still not sure how he feels about the whole situation, but he does feel lighter now.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees a flash of green and when he turns to properly look, he recognises that it's Freed reentering the ballroom. The boy makes a beeline for Laxus and his grandfather, mouth set in a thin line.

"You two have to get out of here", the boy states as soon as he's within earshot. "Excuse me?" his grandfather asks and Freed's eyes keep darting back to the door he just came through. "Your son, he's no good, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have pubicly thrown him out. He's coming this way and he isn't alone."

Right as Freed finishes that sentence, someone screams from in the hall and many more voices soon follow. Laxus thinks he can smell fire, but before he can linger on that thought his grandfather grabs both Freed and him by the arm, dragging them away from the erupting chaos.

"This way!" he hears someone somewhat discreetly yell and he's yanked into a different direction. First Laxus struggles against the stranger until said stranger yells at him to calm down. It's Bickslow he realises as the other boy leads the three of them through the servants' passages. With a rather harsh shove, Bickslow guides them through a door that has no business being as small as it is.

"I'll see you all later!" he cheerfully says and waves as he turns around. "Wait! What are you doing? You can't go back there." Distressed, he watches as Bickslow winks at him and reveals the matchbox in his hand. "I'm going to hold them up for a little bit, I'll be fine. Evergreen will take good care of you!" And with that he's gone.

He has no time to ponder about Bickslow's fate, because for the second time this evening Evergreen is fussing over him. Only this time it's a quick change of clothes and a wig gets slapped on his head. His grandfather takes care of his own disguise and Freed stands there and watches. "Sorry", Evergreen apologises to him, "You're not written down in the protocol for emergency situations."

"It's alright, I'm not the one they're after. I'll hold down the ford with you." It's a task that he and Evergreen immediately have to take care of, as shouting soldiers try to kick down the door. His grandfather leads him away and the last thing Laxus hears before exiting the palace, is the sound of something metallic falling unto the ground.

They run for what feels like hours to Laxus. He's always been a sickly kid and right now, he's at his limit. With a wheeze that seems to come from deep within his lungs, he slams unto the concrete streetfloor, dizzy and dazed out of his mind. Logically, he knows that he isn't breathing right but physically, he can't do a single thing about it. All he can do is gasp pathetically like a fish on dry land.

"If it isn't the tsar and the mighty heir to the throne!" His father's tone is vicious and Laxus forces himself back on his feet. He can't look pitiful in front of his father, he knows he can do better than that even though his lungs burn like a furnace. "Ivan", his grandfather growls in response and it's nothing like the gentle tone he used all evening. His grandfather sounds like he would like to throttle his son with his own two hands and Laxus can't begin to fathom what the outcome of a fight between these personalities would be.

His father comes closer and the way he does it reminds Laxus of all the times he's been hit or yelled at. The man looms over him, stalks to him slowly with a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes. It has him whimpering rather pathetically and the sound eases the tension off his grandfather's face. "Come here kiddo", he whispers and extends his arms to Laxus.

He hesitates. Technically, he doesn't know this man. But then he catches sight of the expression on his father's face and it's a no-brainer. He nearly jumps into his grandfather's arms and the man catches him quite easily for an old man. They take off running at a surprisingly high speed and through zigzagging throughout the streets of the city, they eventually lose track of Ivan.

As the sound of the clock resounds through the air, his grandfather curses. "Dammit, five more minutes until the train leaves. Laxus, can you run again? If I have to carry you there, we won't make it." Dutifully, Laxus nods. Although he's unsure of his actual capacity to run that long, he knows that saying 'no' to an adult is not a thing one should do if they value their safety.

So they run and with the help of the strangers already on it, Laxus' grandfather gets lifted on the train. Laxus himself tries to get on too, but he's too slow and the train's already departing. Their fingertips graze each other, but the light touch is not enough to hold on to. He stumbles over a protruding piece of wood and smacks his head unto the iron railway. The last things he registers is his grandfather being restrained by the people who helped him on the train, screaming Laxus' name.

[detectivejigsawpines]

Black Doves-part 3 (”Won’t you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly)

They ended up filling their pockets with garlic, a couple of vials of holy water (acquired by Stan by totally legal means; honest) and a sack of rice each, because Ford had read about some types of vampires who, if they saw rice or salt or something like that spilled, would be compelled to stop and count every single grain.  They also each wore a crucifix around their neck, and, just to be safe, a Star of David. And, in case they ran into non-vampiric threats, Stan brought his switchblades and his gun.

They locked up the house, leaving a note for Dan under the doormat, and then began hiking towards the old church.

Ford liked the comfortable weight of the crossbow in his arms; he kept aiming it at different possible targets as they walked, to the point where Stan had to occasionally pull him in certain directions so he wouldn’t trip over branches or smack into trees because he wasn't watching where he was going.

He’d always had a bit of a weakness for long-distance weapons, especially when he was younger and didn’t have the same upper body strength as his twin.  Besides, it was a way of getting the upper hand on your enemy, which had really appealed to his young nerdy self (not that he wasn't still a nerd). He’d actually carried around a slingshot for a few years, until he and Stan were forced into boxing lessons and he’d gained a little experience in hand-to-hand.  He still preferred having a little distance between himself and his foes, though, and had often considered getting himself a gun. But he had to admit, a crossbow was a lot cooler.

“If they are vampires, they’re either very subtle about eating, or do their feeding elsewhere,” Ford mused aloud.  “I haven’t seen anything on the news about people being bitten, or any reports of exsanguination-” as oblivious as the inhabitants of Gravity Falls were about the local weirdness, he doubted they would be that oblivious- “so if they are feeding on the townsfolk it’s not to the point of killing anyone.  Or perhaps they’re feeding exclusively on animal blood, or stealing from blood banks.”

“Would you want ta be a vampire if you got the chance?” Stan asked, idly playing with his switchblade as he walked; he tossed it up and down, flipped it, opened and shut it with one hand.

Ford considered the question.  “Would you?”

“H_ll no.”  Stan snorted.  “Turn into an overgrown leech and never get a chance ta go out in the sunlight again, while everyone I loved grew old and died?  No thanks. I’d rather be a werewolf.”

“...You do have a better suited personality.”

“Ha ha.”  Stan flipped the knife again.  “And you didn’t answer the question.”

“...I suppose, if I were an inch away from death or something and it was my only option for survival.”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?  You wouldn’t survive. That’s why they’re called the undead.”

“Yes, but I would still be here.  And hopefully, if I was the right kind of vampire, I could more or less remain myself, and continue my research of the supernatural and all that.”

“Except now you’d be an overgrown leech compelled ta drink the blood of the living.”  Stan made a face at the idea.

Ford decided it wasn’t worth arguing about.

****

About ten minutes later, they stopped to rest and have lunch in a clearing.  Ford made notes in his journal as he munched his sandwich, and just for the heck of it included his and Stan’s debate about the benefits of lycanthropy vs. vampirism.  His brother did present valid points, to be sure, and becoming a member of the undead would definitely not be his first choice; but at the same time he could see the potential benefits as long as the concept of damnation was not a thing and you could control your thirst for blood...

He was startled out of his thoughts by Stan saying, “Hey, Poindexter.  Check out these weird berries.”

His brother was standing at the edge of the clearing, next to some bushes.  He came to investigate, and saw the aforementioned berries. They were bright green, and very uniquely shaped: round at the top, and then shaping into a slightly more angular shape on the ends.  The pattern of black splotches decorating them meant that, if you looked at them the right way, they almost resembled tiny green skulls.

“Oh, I know those!  Those are Lazarus berries!”

Stan gave him a raised eyebrow.

“That’s what the gnomes call them; apparently eating them makes you fall into a deathlike sleep for about half an hour.”

“...You don’t know that from personal experience, right?”

“No, I saw it happen to Shmebulock Senior.  He does it whenever he wants the rest of the gnomes to pay attention to him more, and he’s always fine afterwards.  Apparently they give him fake funerals every time, just to humor him.” Ford reached out and picked a few of the berries, shoving them into his pocket.

“Stanford.”

“They said that they should be perfectly safe for consumption by other creatures!  And I’m going to study them thoroughly first; give me some credit.”

Stan did not look appeased.  “Please don’t poison yourself just for the cause of science or I’ll kill you.”

Ford rolled his eyes, and went to gather up his stuff.

****

They were almost at the church, when they heard some rustling in the underbrush over to their left.

Quickly they ducked behind a pair of trees, and held their breaths; Ford gripped his crossbow, which was currently armed with an iron shaft, and Stan slipped on his brass knuckles meaningfully.

Despite the laws of irony that usually cover situations like this, when the sounds became progressively louder as whatever it was got closer, what came into their line of sight was not a harmless deer or rabbit, like some of you might have been expecting.

It was one of the darkly clad figures they were looking for.

Under his hood, his skin was as pale as milk, and even his lips were bloodless, in contrast with the dark of his hair and eyes.  His feet made almost no sound as he walked, the only noise coming from him was his arms brushing against low-hanging branches. Either he was an extremely angsty teenager who was very good at sneaking around, or he wasn’t exactly human.

Ford could feel his heart pounding with excitement, try as he might to calm himself in case the vampire’s hearing was as good as the stories said.  He glanced over at Stan with a grin that was eagerly returned, and as soon as their quarry was almost out of sight they began to creep after him.

Sure enough, he led them to the church, which had definitely seen better days; half the roof had fallen in, and it looked like there was moss growing all over the place.  The possible vampire made his way to the door...and then called out, just barely loud enough for their ears to pick up, “They’re here.”

Ford barely had time to process this, and to feel a chill of unease rising up his spine and clenching in his stomach, before a soft, whispery voice spoke from behind them.

“Finally.  You’ve come to us at lassssst.”

********

I agree with Stan, personally; I'd take being a werewolf over being a vampire any day of the week. At least then you're still technically alive, and just have to deal with a little problem once a month (which, being female, is already a thing for me :P).

...Oh, sorry, are you less interested in that than the enormous cliffhanger I left you on? Sheesh, you people are always so impatient.

[beermanoftana]

daddy insecurities [arthur, ariadne, eames]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

ship: arthur x ariadne, slight eames x valeria

warnings: swearing; edited thrice in a span of…a few minutes so mistakes may be present

notes: this is 1 of my 3 inception babies; i was still using a different voice then but nothing else has changed

summary: arthur is jealous. he’s very jealous. eames may not have gotten ariadne, but he sure is getting his children.

Things have been going great for Arthur and Ariadne. In their opinion, they weren’t taking their relationship too fast or too slow. After a year and a half of being engaged they got married. A year later they had Casey Luca Brandon, followed by Spencer Phyllira Brandon after another four years. They moved into a modern Victorian home not too far from the city once they started family planning, but keeping the apartment that they shared for the future—and desperate times.

When Ariadne was pregnant with Casey, she had to stop dream sharing. When Arthur first held Casey in his arms, he knew he wanted to be with his family every step of the way. So they agreed to stop dream sharing until the kids were old enough. As much as they wanted to quit permanently, they missed it too much. For now, they’re your regular but above average-looking family living in Paris.

So on this beautiful summer day, the whole family decided to go out of the house and bask in the ambiance of nature. They took a stroll around the city, had lunch near the Eiffel Tower and went shopping for some new clothes before settling down in a park. Arthur and Ariadne found a great spot under a tree and they laid on the grass as Spencer squealed while running—or waddling—to the playground with Casey holding her left hand and their dog, Coulson, on her other side.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at her,” Arthur tells Ariadne. His jaw is clenched and his fingers are intertwined with his wife’s. “And I think he really wants to play with her.”

“They’re children, Arthur.” Ariadne rolls her eyes and looks at the man beside him. “Stop staring at him at least.” She turns back to the playground to watch her children building a sand castle. “Casey and Coulson are with her. They’ll be her knights in shining armor.”

And just as she says that he jerks forward a little. “Did you see that?”

Ariadne raises an eyebrow. “See what?’

"She looked at him.” His eyes dart to the boy on the other side of the playground. “Spencer saw that boy.”

“Arthur…”

“How’d she even know that he exists? He’s been behind her all this time!”

“Maybe she just happened to look that way. She’s two-years-old, Arthur. He looks just about her age or a little older. There’s nothing wrong with that. Calm down!”

Frowning, he rubs the bridge of his nose then sighs and leans down to rest his forehead on her shoulder. “Am I overreacting?”

“Yes. It’s very un-Arthur-like. Imagine if Eames was here.” She chuckles a little. “But I won’t be surprised if he suddenly does talk about it without even being here. He knows everything, it’s actually kind of scary. And really, who wouldn’t be weak when it comes to Spencer? Look at her!” She raises her free arm to gesture towards the little girl and boy a few feet away. “Look at them!”

Arthur looks over at his children. Both of them have more of Ariadne’s facial features. They both have brown locks and chocolate brown eyes. Spencer also acquired Ariadne’s natural waves while Casey’s hair is a little more straight. They even have some freckles on their nose. Arthur’s glad that they have Ariadne’s smile, it lights up his world when he sees all three. However, the way their eyes crinkle when they smile, their adorable dimples, thin lips and height come from Arthur. Unfortunately, they both have his ears, too. Ariadne and the kids love it but he doesn’t. Arthur’s very conscious about his ears.

Casey, who had just turned six, is starting the first grade in two months. He’s got both Ariadne’s creative brain and Arthur’s skills (or at least, starting to show signs of it). He loves building and sketching, and Ariadne’s excited to teach him a few tricks once he’s older. He also loves to dress up in Arthur’s suits. During his most recent birthday, Uncle Saito gave him his own suits, a custom made Armani, a three-piece Tom Ford, and the latest Gucci. And yes, they can imagine how Saito can get his hands on smaller sizes. There was a note attached to the gifts, ‘I see that he has Arthur’s taste. When he is older, I shall send the rest.’ And Saito always keeps his word.

Spencer, on the other hand, spends way too much time, in her two years of living, with Eames. He unexpectedly shows up in their house and brings the little girl out without their permission. The first few times he did that both the Point Man and the Architect panicked, fortunately, they’re rational thinkers (and Arthur has spent way too much time of his own life with the Forger). But the little girl loves Eames and is already starting to show signs of becoming a prankster.

“Add a little color to your life, darling,” he would say. And Eames adores the little girl. Always calling her princess and buying her unnecessary gifts. Whenever Arthur or Ariadne would scold him about spoiling the girl, he’d reply, “And you don’t? She’s got us all wrapped around her tiny finger.”

During dates with the Cobbs, Phillipa, now a high school graduate, and James, an incoming high school student, loves playing with them. Dom likes to think that it’s a second shot of being a parent. Saito constantly showers them with expensive gifts (and even promising on granting them a scholarship to whichever university they’d choose). Yusuf also shows his love for the kids by sending them trinkets from his trips around the world for conferences.

“You’re not going to lose her, Arthur,” Ariadne assures, “especially not at this age. And even if she does end up having a silly crush—”

“She’s too young for that,” he interrupts, which earns him a glare from the brunette beside him.

“She will never choose them over you.”

Arthur grumbles, “She chooses Eames over me all the time.”

“You know she loves you both equally,” she reminds him.

Arthur sighs and nods. When he looks up again, his eyes narrow. “What the fuck is he doing?”

“Arthur!”

“It’s Eames! He’s trying to take her away again!”

Ariadne looks at where the children are, and, sure enough, the English man is by the sandbox, holding the little girl by the waist, and talking to the six-year-old boy. Coulson is wagging his tail and sniffing the man with glee. “He’s not going to take her away in front of Casey, and this is one of her favorite spots, he knows that.”

Eames looks up and gives them a grin and a wave. Ariadne does the same while Arthur simply raises his hand in acknowledgement. He whispers to the little girl and then says something to the boy the Brandons can’t decipher. The brunettes nod happily before turning to their parents and giving them a wave with smiles on their faces. Ariadne giggles and, again, waves at them with a huge smile on her face. The scene of his children warms Arthur’s heart and immediately, he smiles, his eye crinkling and his dimples showing, and waves back at them.

“Maybe I won’t kill Eames today.”

“Your daughter would be heartbroken.”

Arthur nods. As he watches his children play with one of their godfathers the boy he had been fussing about earlier is walking towards the sandbox. “Ariadne?”

“Don’t stress, Arthur. He’s simply looking for a playmate, and besides, Eames is there. Doesn’t that relax you a little?”

“I suppose.”

“He’s pretty much their second father.”

“He’s just a suspicious boy.”

“Arthur, he’s probably only three.”

“Exactly, at that age, girls and boys don’t know that they can feel attraction!”

Ariadne rolls her eyes. “That boy probably thinks Spencer is a pretty little girl who seems to be having fun and who just might want to play. He just wants to be friends with Spencer! There’s nothing wrong with that. Stop being such a jealous father and let your daughter have some fun.”

“I’m not jealous,” Arthur snorts.

After a few minutes, the two see Eames kiss Spencer’s temple, stand and make his way towards them. “Darling,” he starts, “I can hear the two of you bicker over nonsense all the way over there.” He uses his thumb to point at the place he’d recently been in.

“Arthur’s just jealous,” Ariadne says.

“You should be, your children seem to like me more than you.”

Arthur glares. “Aren’t you due back to visit Valeria in Germany?”

“Val knows it’s hard for me to leave our godchildren. Do you want to get rid of me that easily?”

“Always.”

Eames chuckles. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“They’re not.”

“Arthur’s just jealous that Spencer will start to replace him soon,” Ariadne supplies.

“He already has been replaced, ever since I showed up in the hospital when she was born. Even your own dog likes me better than him.”

Ariadne fails to suppress a soft laugh. “Not helping, Eames.”

“The only time I’ve seen this bloke get jealous was with you, love. It’s very amusing to see him all worked up over,” Eames looks behind him, “a three-year old boy,” he continues when he turns back. “You can probably take him down with a single move. He doesn’t seem to have much experience with hand-to-hand combat.”

“What’s his name?” Arthur asks.

“Are you going to check his records with your phone, darling?”

“No, his family’s. And not now, when we get back home. What’s his name, Eames?”

Ariadne rolls her eyes and Eames just shrugs. “Christopher.”

“Christopher what?”

“Robin.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “Eames.”

After roaring with laughter, Eames says, “I’m surprised you know who that is.”

Ariadne laughs. “Having two children does that to him.”

A small smile escapes the dark haired man’s lips. “Give me his name, Eames.”

“All right, all right. It’s Christopher Mann, and that’s with a double 'n’. He’s a sweet child, really. I’d hate for you to find something in his record.”

“I just want to make sure that when this boy tells his family or anyone about playing with a little girl named Spencer and her brother named Casey with a dog named Coulson, I have nothing to worry about,” Arthur tells him. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Both Ariadne and Eames look at each other and sigh.

Arthur squeezes his wife’s hand. “I just want this family to be safe.”

Ariadne smiles. “I know.”

The three adults watch the three children play. Arthur hates to admit it but Spencer is enjoying the company of the new boy. “Where’s his family?” he wonders aloud.

“Over there,” Eames points at an older couple on the other side. They seem to be having a heated argument. “Christopher doesn’t like hearing them talk loudly. It makes him sad. Poor boy. His older brother is away in college so he’s very much alone at home.”

That breaks Arthur’s heart and he’s suddenly really happy that the children are getting along really well. He can’t imagine either Casey or Spencer being alone while he and Ariadne fight. Hell, he can’t even imagine him and Ariadne fighting when the children are within reach. Sure, they’ve had their share of arguments and cold shoulders when the kids are around, but they’d always make sure to keep their emotions in check until they’re alone.

The boy, Christopher, also seems to be having fun playing with Coulson. The dog sniffs the little boy before licking his face. “Even Coulson likes him,” Ariadne says with a little laugh. “It’s really just you, Arthur.”

About an hour later, Christopher’s mother calls him. “Chris! It’s time to go now, honey.” Arthur sees the boy frown. Christopher stands and pets Coulson one more time before waving at the two children he had recently befriended. Once he’s left, Spencer pouts and gives an exaggerated sigh. Casey pats her shoulder and tries to cheer her up, which seems to have worked.

“My princess is sad,” Eames observes, “it’s time to bring her to the ice cream parlour.”

“You’re really showing favoritism, aren’t you?” Ariadne says with a small smile.

“I do not, love. I also spoiled Casey when he was younger. But I suppose I have a softer heart for little girls.” He shrugs. “Hey, Arthur, would you rather teach Casey or Spencer?”

“Teach what?”

Eames groans. “Fighting, of course! We’re going to teach those children to defend themselves! They are definitely not going to be bullies—”

“Unless they hang out with you too much,” Arthur mutters.

“—so they will be bullied. We need to make sure that they’re feared!”

Ariadne rolls her eyes. “Eames…”

“Love, we cannot allow those two precious children be looked down upon.”

Arthur gives a little nod. “There’s no need for us to personally teach them unless we think that they need more. Ari and I have been talking about it; we’re planning on letting them take self-defense lessons. Casey would probably start soon and we’ll wait until Spencer is his age.”

Grinning, Eames says, “Perfect. I’ll be there in the waiting area.”

Ariadne smiles and Arthur can’t hide the smirk on his face.

When Arthur notes that the sun would be setting soon, Ariadne suggests that they head home. After getting some ice cream from the store they arrive in their grayish-white house and Eames mentions to them that he has nothing better to do and there’s nothing more he loves than spending time with the Brandon children. “You and Ariadne can have some grown-up time, yeah?”

“We don’t do grown-up time when the kids are at home,” Arthur mumbles. “Just don’t kidnap our children and you can stay for an hour.”

“You can stay for as long as you want, Eames,” Ariadne says as she helps Casey with a new shirt. “We’re having pasta for dinner.”

“Eames does love pasta,” the Forger tells them, licking his lips. He picks up Spencer just as she says, “Me!” Eames chuckles. “Everyone loves your mother’s pasta, princess. You should try Uncle Eames brownies.”

“Oh, dear God, no,” Arthur groans.

“Don’t you have some researching to do, darling?” Eames jokes.

“I just have to make sure that you’re not going to make a run for it.” Arthur shakes his head and heads for his study. “Come, Coulson.” And the dog happily follows him inside.

“Your daddy is a strange man, princess.”

Spencer grins. “Daddy!”

Less than an hour later, Arthur emerges from his study and walks back to the living room. On the way, he passes by his wife preparing the ingredients for dinner. He smiles and kisses her cheek before heading to his destination. He spots Casey on the floor with his building blocks and Spencer still on Eames’s lap. Coulson sits obediently beside Casey.

“You’re still here,” Arthur deadpans.

“Your wife said I can stay as long as I want. And I’ll be staying until dessert. Or at least until this little princess’s bedtime.”

“Tuck! Tuck!” Spencer claps.

“Tuck me in, too, Uncle Eames!” Casey joins.

Eames grins. “Of course, of course. I will gladly tuck you two in. Perhaps you’d even want a story of one of my adventures?”

Casey nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I love your stories, Uncle Eames!”

“Love Unca Ease!” Spencer squeals.

“Aww,” Eames tickles her stomach, “Uncle Eames loves you, too, princess.”

Arthur smiles at the scene. As much as he despises Eames—okay, he really doesn’t, at all, he loves the man as much as he loves his brother, Edward Brandon—he loves that Eames loves Casey and Spencer enough for them to be his own children. He hears Casey play with his toys and he’s a little jealous of the attention that Eames is getting from Spencer. “Casey,” he calls.

Casey looks up and grins. Arthur has his legs open and arms outstretched. The little boy walks to his father and Arthur carries him to his lap. He stretches towards the dog who was sitting beside him. “Come, Coulson,” he says.

Coulson wags his tail and trots over them. Casey pats his head and then turns to his father. “Daddy, I think Coulson is lonely.”

“He can’t be lonely, he has you.” Arthur smiles, already knowing where the conversation is heading.

“I think he needs a friend.” Casey smiles.

Arthur shrugs. “He has a brother and a sister.”

“Daddy, you’re being silly!” Casey giggles. “I think we should get another dog.”

“Another dog?” Arthur feigns surprise. “Now where did you get that idea?”

Casey shrugs exaggeratedly. “Can we, Daddy?

Arthur smiles. "Your mother and I would have to talk about it first, okay?” Although he’s very sure of what the answer will be. “But we may not get one exactly like Coulson, he’s one of a kind!” Coulson wags his tail and sniffs Arthur’s knee. “Yes you are, Coulson,” he murmurs, fondly remembering the time he first entered his and Ariadne’s lives.

“That’s okay,” Casey nods, “I just think he needs a friend.”

Arthur kisses his temple. “We’ll see, big guy. We’ll see.”

After dinner and dessert, the family, plus Eames, is sitting around the living room watching an old, classical film that stars Audrey Hepburn. While the adults are engrossed in the film, Casey and Spencer play with the dog on the floor.

“It su—it’s sad that she’s only known for her acting skills and beauty,” Ariadne sighs, “she’s an amazing person. So much more than what people say about her.”

“Well, that’s Hollywood,” Eames says with a shrug. “And as an actor I can definitely say that some people are only judged by our faces. Some people, as beautiful or as handsome as they are, cannot act to save their lives! And yet, people still praise them. It’s more of a popularity contest. While some people, more average looking ones, who can act wonderfully, cannot shine due to being overshadowed.”

“It’s hard to tell who you are in that argument,” Arthur sneers.

“Oh, darling, you wound me so deeply. I’m neither and you know that.”

Ariadne giggles softly before placing her head on Arthur’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go to bed early? Like, right after this movie ends.”

“If that’s your way of shooing me out, love, it’s not working,” Eames says with a wicked grin.

Arthur groans. “You’re not planning on spending the night, are you?”

“Well, now that you’ve revealed to me your master plan, someone’s got to keep the children together, right?”

Ariadne smiles. “Well, someone’s got to wash and tuck the children to sleep.”

Arthur shifts. “Really?” But the grin on his face cannot be stopped.

Eames laughs, causing the children to look at him with smiles on their faces. “What’s so funny, Uncle Eames?”

“Oh, just a grown-up joke, Little Man. We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Okay,” Casey nods. Casey’s memory is better than most, he’d remember this moment, and Eames knows it. “Are you tired, Spencer?”

Arthur and Ariadne smiles and squeeze in together. But just as they’re getting cozy, Spencer appears, waddling with a grin that showed off her few baby teeth. “Daddy!” Arthur smiles brightly and doesn’t think twice about carrying her and putting her in between him and Ariadne. “Mommy!” she squeals.

Ariadne plays with her daughter’s hair before kissing the top of her head. “Not tired yet, sweetie?”

“Na!” She grins. “Pay!”

“It’s almost your bedtime, you can’t play anymore. Once this movie’s done, Uncle Eames will be washing you and Casey and then tuck you to sleep.”

“No sip!” she protests.

“Yes sleep,” Arthur tells her. “If you sleep earlier, there’s more time for you to play tomorrow.”

Spencer pouts. “Unca Ease towo?”

“If you wake up early enough then I might still be here,” Eames tells her. The tone that Eames used makes Spencer squeal in delight. “Sleep?”

“Sip!”

Arthur peaks over to see Casey resting his head on Coulson’s curled body. “How are you doing, big guy?”

“Coulson’s tired and I’m tired.”

“I suppose that means you had a great day today?” Ariadne asks.

Casey looks at them. “I did! What about you, Spencer?” His little sister raises her arms and squeals. “I think she also had a great day,” he replies, making the three adults laugh.

Later that night, with Spencer and Casey soundly asleep in their respective rooms, Eames in the guest bedroom, and Coulson back in his doghouse, Arthur and Ariadne lay quietly on their bed. Ariadne’s resting her head on Arthur’s chest while he has his arms wrapped around her.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be jealous of a little boy, Arthur,” Ariadne says.

He chuckles. “I know.”

“And you shouldn’t be jealous of Eames, either.”

He sighs. “Eames is a challenge. He’s amazing with everyone, it’s hard not to like him.”

Ariadne smiles. No matter how many times Arthur has admitted to caring about Eames, she still catches herself thinking about the two being best friends. “You’re not just Spencer’s father, but her dad. Eames is…well, he’s Eames. We already knew that our children would love him.”

“Eames is a great dad without having to be a father.”

“He’s scared. Valeria told him about the pregnancy scare, he was so relieved. She was hurt but she understood. He isn’t ready yet. Maybe he loves the two because he also wants to start a family, he’s just not sure how.”

Arthur sighs and holds her tighter. “He’s weird.”

Ariadne laughs and snuggles closer. That’s when they hear a bark and a scream. Arthur quickly puts on a pair of boxer shorts and Ariadne scrambles to find her robe. The Point Man is out their room quicker than the Architect.

“Coulson!?”

Ariadne gently pushes Arthur to the side to see what’s happening. Coulson is running around with Casey right beside him. Eames is at the end of the hall with Spencer on his shoulders.

“Eames!”

The fun stops and they turn around to look at Arthur. “Darling, you’re in front of minors. And they’re your children.”

“My children shouldn’t be out here in the first place.”

“Casey couldn’t sleep. He knocked on my door about an hour or two after I tucked him into bed. He said he wanted to be in one of my adventures. We couldn’t have fun without Spencer and Coulson. So,” he shrugs. “Oh, love, you look…hm, I can’t really say it in front of the children.” Eames winks.

Ariadne wraps the robe she’s wearing tighter around her and hides behind Arthur, a faint blush appearing in her cheeks. “It’s way past the kids’ bedtime.”

“Pay!” Spencer squeals, clapping her hands.

“No, no,” Ariadne shakes her head, stepping away from Arthur and moving towards Eames, “Spencer, it’s time to sleep.”

“No sip!” Spencer argues, but her arms are outstretched. “Mommy pay!”

“It’s late now, honey,” Ariadne tells her. Eames brings the little girl down from his shoulders and gives her to Ariadne. “You have to go to sleep.” With Spencer at her hip, she looks over at Arthur who’s trying to get Casey to bed. “Arthur, I can take care of the kids and you’re in charge of Coulson and Eames.”

Arthur groans. Coulson stops wagging his tail and sits. “Oh, no, not you, Coulson.” Eames laughs out loud. “Eames, you’re banned from this house at night.”

“Stop being jealous of me, darling,” Eames teases.

tagging: @angel-cap

[overheardatthecontinental]

Prompt: Helen takes a bullet meant for John

This is a prompt I got about a week or so ago from @iwonthesitatebih. Sorry for the delay but here it is:

She was always stunning, John thought, watching as Helen kicked off her shoes. But there was something damn special about the way she lit up with her feet in the sand and the sun shining on her face. She glowed.

And it didn’t hurt that her sundress was cut high on her thighs or that the sleeves slipped alluringly off her shoulders. Her dark hair twisted in the wind as John watched her from the deck of the cottage.

It was surreal. She was surreal.

He didn’t date. He didn’t do relationships or have one night stands with strangers. And he didn’t have any real friends, let alone ones with benefits. And he had never intended on it.

But Helen Kingston had captivated him from the moment he laid eyes on her. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. John knew plenty of beautiful women. No, Helen Kingston was so much more than beautiful. It was her kindness that had piqued his interest and her genuine heart that had fucked with his head over and over.

He didn’t deserve her.

But there she was: dipping her toes into the water while he watched, sipping at his morning coffee.

It had only been two months but those two months had more meaning than the rest of his miserable life combined.

She turns back to look at the house, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

Helen smiles up at John and crooks her finger.

How can he resist?

John sets down the coffee and walks down the steps to the beach. It was official. He was going to buy the damn cottage. It wasn’t for sale but that didn’t matter. He would call the man who was renting it and make an offer. It wouldn’t be turned down.

Anything to keep that smile on her face. She looked so relaxed, far away from work, far away from the city. She would never quit her job. She did too much good but he wouldn’t stop reminding her that the world was hers.

He crosses the beach down to the water in suit pants and a crisp white button down. He only had suits and clothes for working out. Helen teased him about it sometimes but, truthfully, John had never had the need for something casual before. He had never really been shopping outside of a tailor. Helen would love it, though. Taking him to the mall, finding sweaters and casual shirts for him to relax in. That was enough to make John almost want to interact with people.

“Hey you.” She says as he approaches, a small smile on her face.

John says nothing, stalking toward her in a way that had her licking her lips.

He reaches for her face and kisses her softly yet soundly. The waves crash on the shore, the wind stirring up the sand and their hair but nothing is as loud as his own heart beating.

Helen nips at his lower lip as he pulls away. "I love you."

"I love you too." John says, still in awe that the words flow so easily off his tongue. There is no one like her. "Here is the plan."

"What's the plan?" She rests her head on his chest, staring out at the sea. The sailboats on the horizon cut easily through the waters.

"You're going to quit your job."

"Am I?"

"You are." He can feel her smile. "I'm going to leave mine and you and I are going to run away."

She hums, "where to?"

"Somewhere warm. Thailand. Belize. Somewhere with white sand, clear blue waters. We'll burn all your clothes and you can live in a bikini."

Helen snorts, "oh no."

"Oh yes." John presses a kiss to the top of her head, "We'll get a quiet, private residence and no one will find us. We'll spend every day on the beach. We'll read and relax and make love."

"Just us."

"Just us. Forever."

Helen looks up, "That sounds wonderful."

It really did, John thought. But near impossible.

Helen stepped back and out of his arms, hand gliding down so that she can link their fingers together. "In the meantime, we have right now."

"That we do." John agrees, stepping with her as she starts to traverse across the beach.

She is so serene. The calm in his storm.

Helen Kingston- she is good and kind and pure and makes him want to be a better person. It's too late for redemption and he knows that, but she has accepted him with all his flaws. Her hand was intertwined with his despite knowing what he did with those hands when she was away. She slept in his arms every night. The monster wasn't under her bed… he was in it.

"You know I would never quit my job." Helen says conversationally.

"I know." It was part of what he loved about her- the dedication to the kids she worked with.

"Days like today make me want to."

John stops, spinning her in front of him so he can hold both her hands, facing her.

"Move in with me." Its neither an order nor a question. He's not sure what it is but it feels like a plea.

She smiles softly, "it's been two months, John. What happens when you get tired of me?"

"Never going to happen. If anything, this is insurance that you won't leave me."

She reaches up and runs a hand down his beard. "Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you?"

John feels unnaturally heavy. His stomach and heart sink because, damn him, he is not enough.

"Because you're smart. You're going to figure out that I'm no good. That you can do better."

"I don't want good. And I don't want better, John. I just want you."

Her eyes narrow suddenly, her lips parting and she starts to shout, “John, get--!”

Suddenly she is launched forward, crashing into him. Behind her, far from the shore, is a boat. A sniper rifle peaks out from the side and John throws both himself and Helen to the ground, rolling on top of her to cover her body with his.

Her eyes are wide, breathing frantic. A quick look down reveals his worst fear. Dark red blooms from her abdomen, staining her dress.

"Hey, hey," John places his hands on either side of her face as another shot fires just over their heads, "stay with me, baby!"

He is unarmed, save a small knife. They are sitting ducks in the sand and he can feel her blood soak through his shirt.

He takes her hands and places them over the wound, "keep pressure, okay? I'm going to get you out of here."

She nods shakily, her eyes so trusting even as her face contorts in pain. His arms wrap around her and he moves to his feet, swinging her up while still shielding her with his body.

The adrenaline is pumping through his system. He'd been in a thousand fights before but nothing had ever filled him with terror as moving across the beach, trying to run off center but still as quickly as possible to the cover of the brush.

He hears a motor and it sounds like the boat is driving away but he can't look. He can't risk slowing yet.

He jumps down into the brush, laying Helen behind a log within the reeds.

Looking up, the boat has disappeared. But that didn't guarantee they were alone.

The shot went through her abdomen. He rips his shirt off, not giving a damn about the buttons that fly in every direction as he rolls it and pushes it against her wound.

Her head lolls back. "Come on, Helen. Stay with me!"

John reaches into his pocket for his phone. He's never called 911 before. He's never needed to but he can't wait for the doc to drive from New York.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Woman shot. It went through her abdomen. It was some kind of rifle, a few hundred feet out." He rattles off the address.

"J-John?" Helen's face is layered with sweat.

"I'm here, baby."

"Is the shooter still out there?" The operator asks.

"No. They rode off."

"The ambulance is on its way and police have been dispatched."

He does wait for her to finish, hanging up the call and dropping the phone to the ground.

"I'm cold." Helen whispers.

"I know, baby, I know. Help is coming."

"Always hurt this bad?" She says through grit teeth. "How do you do it?"

"Oh you know…" John keeps the pressure on the wound, trying not to let the fear in his heart reach his face. "Practice, practice, practice."

She tries to smile but the pain is overwhelming. Her eyes start to close.

"No, no, no. Helen!" He says her name sharply and her eyes open. "I need you to stay with me."

"Want to sleep." It's almost a sob and John fights the urge to match her.

"I know. But you gotta stay awake, baby. Gotta stay with me until help gets here."

Where were the damn sirens?

"Trying…" He sees her hands shaking on either side of her. The color has drained of her face and he doesn't know what to do.

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything." She needs to stay conscious. "Tell me anything. Something you've never told me."

Helen nods and exhales shakily, "Okay. I fucking hate your convertible."

John blinks in surprise. Of all the things she could say… say wasn't exactly news but she had never admitted to it aloud.

"It's not safe. It's too flashy."

"What else?" He asks, a smile on his face.

" Its grossly cramped and there's no bo back seat to fuck in."

"Make you a deal. I'll get a new car if you let me buy you one too."

"John," she whimpers but keeps a brave face despite the pain, "I was just shot. This is coercion."

"That Chevrolet is going to fall apart on you."

"Be nice. Chevy is the great American car."

Her eyes start to flicker and John pats her cheek, "stay with me, Hel. We both know Ford is better."

Her eyes close and John slaps her just a bit harder, heart clenching as he did.

"Bitch." She mutters, eyes opening as she trembled.

He could hear the sirens now. They were getting louder by the instant

"Come on, tell me something else."

"What you want to know?"

"Something new. Something I wouldn't guess this time."

She nods, "if I live,"

"You will."

She had to. There was no other alternative.

"I'm going to marry the fuck out of you, John Wick."

The last thing she saw, as the world went dark, was John's face agape in shock.

.

Helen had been rushed from the ambulance into surgery and John's only assurance had come from a paramedic promising him that the doctors would do all that they could. His hands shake. John couldn't remember a time in his life where his hands had shaken.

His stomach turns and it takes all his self-control not to lose the contents of his stomach in the nearby trash can.

He takes his cell out from his pocket. It is stained with her blood. Trying to ignore the way it feels under his fingertips, he dials a familiar pattern.

The ringing stops as the receiver is picked up. Before they can speak, John says, "Helen was shot."

Silence.

"Is she alive?" Marcus asks finally.

"In surgery."

More silence.

Marcus had told him, had warned him. John hadn't listened.

"Where was she shot?"

"Abdomen." He leans back in the chair, "it was meant for me."

"Well, I doubt anyone would go to shoot Helen for the fun of it."

John ignores the stinging remark. “I’m at the hospital now. Can you find out if anyone has a hit on me? I need to know where it’s coming from and I need to know who has been hired.”

“It isn’t open. I would have heard if it was. But I’ll head to the Continental. See if I can find out anything.” There is a moment of silence, “Aside from me, does anyone know about Helen? Winston? The Concierge or the Executor?”

“The Executor but he hasn’t met her.”

"Of course. You know, depending on who they sent, its very possible that half of the underworld knows about Helen by now."

Fuck, he wanted to vomit.

He had tried so hard to protect her. To keep her secret from his world. Marcus was right. He should have known better.

"Please, just do what you can."

"Just focus on her. I’ll take care of everything on this end.”

And Marcus is gone, the line dropped.

John sits down in a chair and watches the clock tick on and on.

.

She'll live, the doctor tells him and John breaths again. His heart stutters in relief as he receives the rundown of her procedure.

He barely listens, "I need to see her."

"Of course. She is, still, unconscious but I can take you back."

John nods and follows back to the recovery room. She is still pale but her vitals look good. He caresses her face lightly, her earlier words still echoing in his head.

His beautiful, crazy girl was lying in a hospital bed because his enemies found them.

He hadn’t protected her and she had taken a bullet meant for him.

Gladly, John would have taken it if it meant she did not lay in front of him.

John reaches for her hand. It is limp but warm and he holds it between his. Marcus had been right. There was no way to pull Helen into their world and still keep her safe. But he could not let her go, even if he wanted to.

.

Helen startles awake and blinks in the sharp white light of the hospital room.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” John’s voice soothes, hand tightening in her own while his other reaches up and rests on her forehead. “You’re okay.”

She blinks again, “Hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

John lets himself laugh, softly. His heart still heavy with the thought he came so close to losing her. But she was there. In front of him. Alive.

Helen looks him over. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m supposed to be asking that question.”

Helen stays quiet, looking at him seriously.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” He confesses, his hand sweeping back into her hair. “God, Helen…”

“I’m okay.” She whispers, squeezing his hand in hers. “I’m here.”

John releases the support on the bed and moves to sit on the edge, beside her. “Why didn’t you duck? Why didn’t you move when you saw the target?”

“It would have hit you.”

“One more wouldn’t have killed me.”

“It might’ve.”

“It might’ve killed you!” Did she not understand? He couldn’t yell at her, not while she was in a hospital bed but she had to understand. “My life doesn’t matter. I will gladly take a thousand bullets if it keeps you safe.”

“Your life matters to me, John.”

She had said ‘I love you’ fairly early on. He believed her every time she said it. He knew she cared, he knew he mattered but there was no one else who cared for him or about him as she did. All his faults lay at her feet and rather than step on him, she had knelt down and held him.

Nothing scared him more.

Except perhaps the words she had said in what very well could have been her last sentiment.

“It’s not worth yours.” He says finally, “If something happened to you, what would I be? You blow into my life and I don’t recognize the man I was two months ago. I don’t want to think about how empty I was before I found you. Before you, I was just a shell. What would you expect me to become if you died?”

Helen reaches up, her eyes so soft and open and so not like anything he was used to. She runs her hair up his beard and around back to his hair. “I would expect you to be the man I fell in love with.” She pulls his head and John obliges, bending forward to kiss her softly. Her lips are chapped from the anesthesia but neither care.

Only hours ago, he didn’t know if he would ever be able to kiss her again.

“I love you.” She says quietly, whispering against his lips. There’s a pause as Helen pulls back, just far enough to look at him. “And I meant what I said on the beach.”

John swallows, not meeting her eyes. “I can get a new car.”

“After that.”

He feels his lips twitch up softly, “The part about me being a bitch?”

“After that.” Helen smiles at him, “Although I won’t dispute that you’re a bitch sometimes.” She wraps her arm around his neck, wincing slightly at the way her body stretches, “When I get out of here, I am going to marry you, John Wick.”

John feels his hands shake. He’s not sure they’ve done that before. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?

“Our relationship is built off of me telling you what to do.” Helen flashes him a smile, “Besides, you were taking too long.”

“I have it on good authority you aren’t supposed to propose marriage after two months.”

“Nor are you supposed to propose moving in together but you did that this morning.”

“You still have an out, moving in with me. Once we’re married, you’re stuck with me forever.” And damn him, he’s considering it. She’s already dragged into his world. The wound in her stomach is proof enough of that but to put his ring on her finger, to put his name at the end of hers? “I won’t let you go.”

“I think I’ve established that I’m serious about you,” Helen tells him, eyes flicking down to her abdomen. “I have no intention of going anywhere. Aside from the courthouse.”

“You have to move in with me.” John feels a smile creep onto his face as he strokes her face.

“A given.”

“And I’m buying you a new car.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “Fine.”

“And a beach house.” It might be his best and only opportunity to negotiate.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

John surges forward and kisses her again. She’s here, in his arms. And she is going to be okay. Marcus had told him he was going to take care of it and John was going to let him. He had more important things to attend to, starting with his fiancee.

[existing-on-cloral]

Brooklyn’s Night Terrors

Chapter Nine: Buck-Handled

Bucky Barnes is sharp as a knife and as deadly as one too. You don't mind making him your date to the party, though, since Steve'll be there.

"Let me get this straight," Bucky said. "You want to go to the party with me?"

"Yes." You planted your hands on your hips. "If you want to."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Is it 'cause of what I said about Steve earlier?"

You sighed. Bucky was too good. "I can..."

"No, no, I'll go with you." Bucky set his hands on your shoulders. "If it helps my best friend, I'm in. Besides, I've been trying to get him to start dating. He's the last eligible bachelor in New York City, and there's plenty of girls that have got their eye on him." He paused, then grinned. "But only one that he's got his eye on."

Blood rushed to your cheeks. "Buck. I don't know if I want to..."

"Give him a dance, doll." You flinched at the word 'doll', as it carried a reminder of Steve's voice, hot and heavy, as he crawled on top of you... Bucky snapped his fingers in front of your face and you jumped. "You in there?" You nodded. "Trust me. Just one dance, and he'll talk. He'll do whatever you want him to." He winked and left, touching your shoulder briefly. "I'll pick you up at six thirty on the dot."

You pumped your fists in relief. Phase one of your plan was complete. Now it was time for Operation Peter Parker.

"Oh, hey!" Bucky call back, catching your attention. "Wear something blue. Just a thought." He winked and left, whistling what sounded quite a bit like "The Star-Spangled Man With A Plan". As the door began to swing shut, you heard him shout, "Hurt one hair on his head and I'll snap your neck without a second thought!" all too cheerily. Before the door could even close, Peter dashed inside, shutting and locking the door behind him.

"I... Cannot... Catch... A... Break..." Peter panted, rushing to the water cooler and grabbing a bottle out. He downed it in several gulps, turning back to you and throwing the bottle in the trash.

"Recycle, Parker," you said, crossing your arms. "How did it go?"

Peter switched the bottle to the recycling bin. "I saw him... And then..."

"And then?" you prompted.

"I ran." Peter hung his head. "I ran out of the room and came straight here. I'm sorry."

You walked over, tilting Peter's chin up. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to be nervous. Do you want me to come with you?"

"Would you?" Peter, paused, then reconsidered. "Not like, to creepily stand over him and threaten him, but, yeah."

Thinking back to Bucky's threat promise, you shivered. "Don't worry. I'll just be there for guidance. And backup."

Peter giggled. "I hope I won't need it, but thanks. I'd feel better if you were there."

"Great! Let's go!" You grabbed the back of Peter's hoodie and dragged him out of the gym. "Don't worry, I'll find him, you just worry about what you're going to say."

"And you're grounded if you don't say it," Sharon threatened as she walked past the two of you.

You waved. "Hi, Agent Carter. Peter and I are on a mission. Nothing to do with the Reaper, I promise." Shooting an evil grin to Peter, you added, "We're getting him a date to the party."

Sharon's eyes lit up. "Good luck, Peter!" She ruffled his hair and smiled at him. "Who's the lucky person?"

Peter blushed. "I'll tell you if you can tell me where he is," he mumbled.

She looked at you. "Maximoff?"

"Maximoff."

"Dammit, Doc, we had a deal!"

"Our deal was, as I recall, I'd help you ask him out in exchange for silence about a certain-" You glanced at Sharon nervously. "-captive."

Peter shook his head. "That's not who-"

Slamming a hand over his mouth, you gave Sharon an innocent smile. "He's so cute, isn't he?"

"Adorable. And seventeen. And out of your league." Sharon turned and walked off, heels clicking on the floor.

"This is my son, Carter!" You sighed and turned back to the shaking Peter. "Calm down, kid, it's gonna be okay."

"But she's gonna tell him!" Peter protested.

Whoosh.

"Tell who what?" Pietro said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Peter's neck. Peter squeaked. "You didn't see that coming, слаткиш?"

You let go of Peter's face and stepped back, spreading your hands. "Peter, why don't you tell Pietro?"

Peter's shaking only got worse and he began to gulp for breath. "I can't... I can't... I'm scared..."

"Do not be frightened, слаткиш," Pietro said. "I am here to listen."

The closeness of the two boys, both physically and emotionally, warmed your heart. Though you weren't sure what Pietro was calling Peter, and if it was something like "friendo" the poor boy was screwed. Still, he had to try.

"What are you calling me?" Peter asked. Pietro stepped back and relinquished his hold on Peter, moving his hands to the (much) shorter boy's arms. It occurred to you that both might be a little touched starved.

"If I tell you, you cannot make fun of me," Pietro said. Peter nodded. Pietro inhaled deeply, then, talking as fast as he could run, blurted, "Iamcallingyoucute!"

Peter jumped. "Sorry, what?"

Pietro lowered his eyes to the ground. "I'm calling you cute. You're cute. A little. A lot." He let go and backed up.

You interrupted his word vomit with a little squeal. "See, Peter! Go ahead, say what you were going to."

Peter walked towards Pietro until he was within hugging distance. "I... Pietro... Will you go to the party on Friday with me?"

Pietro's eyes fucking lit up. You could have sworn Christmas lights were dancing in his irises, the way that boy looked at Peter. "Yes! I would love to!" He swept Peter up in a hug, squeezing him until Peter cried out.

"That's a sight for sore eyes."

You whirled around to see Steve standing behind you, hands in his pockets, wearing a button-down so tight it was probably held together by some space magic or something. "The poor kid's just survived a kidnapping, and to him, the attack on Sokovia happened a week ago." He smiled down at you. "I know how it feels."

"I guess." You turned back, watching the two boys launch into a conversation about football. (The Wii kind. Peter insists it's better, as he is a baby nerd.)

"So, the party." Steve crossed his arms and you could have sworn you saw the button-down stretch. "Are you going with anyone?"

"Are you asking?" you blurted.

Steve shrugged. "I figured we could try it. See how it feels to both of us."

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. "Oh. Um. I'm already going with someone, Steve."

The look on his face made you wish you could turn back the clock and never ask Bucky. You made a mental note to tell Bucky that he had been right, and that you were an idiot for not seeing it, but it was too late now.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"We don't really need to have this right here, do we?"

"Who?" His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed up. "Who are you going with?"

"I'm going with Bucky!" you snapped, the words so forceful you almost spit in his face. "Are you happy?"

Steve fell silent, then whispered, "No." He turned around and walked away stiffly, calling over his shoulder, "Don't bother coming by tonight!"

You gritted your teeth and turned back to the two boys, who were still chatting away about the party. Peter shushed Pietro and turned to you. "Is everything okay?" he asked, concern spreading across his face.

"No." You pushed past him and headed for your office. "I've got a team to rile up, excuse me."

Friday came quicker than expected, and soon you found yourself in the shotgun seat of Bucky's old Ford Taurus. "You sure this car is safe?" you asked, tugging your dress over your knees.

"Nope!" Bucky pulled out of the parking lot and started down the street, looking scarily calm behind the wheel. "Better than Steve's car, though," he added, giving you a half-joking smile.

"Right." Steve. You looked out the window, watching the lights of New York City change as you drove uptown. "The new Avengers facility should be really nice. I've never seen it before."

"It's really nice," Bucky agreed. "I have my own room there and everything. We're setting up for Peter after the party."

You smiled at the thought of young Peter, finally in a safe space. "I think we can clear his name, don't you?"

"If Steve can't clear his name, no one can." Bucky's shoulders straightened, confident in his old best friend. You winced. He noticed. "What's got you down?"

"Oh. Steve." Willing yourself to just tell him, you said, "He came and asked me to the party."

Bucky whistled. "I warned ya. You had an idea he was interested, didn't you?"

"Interested in my body, maybe," you joked.

Bucky slammed on the brakes. "Say what now?"

"Buck, there's people-" Horns started to honk behind you. "Drive!"

He slowly put his foot back on the gas. "Doc."

"Yes?"

"Have you been fucking my best friend?"

You winced. "Maybe?"

Bucky shook his head. "There's no maybe about fucking. Are you or aren't you?"

Sheepishly, you nodded.

He gritted his teeth. "How did he react to you rejecting him?"

The memory resurfaced and you swallowed back the guilt. "I said I was going with you and he told me not to bother coming by his house that night."

Bucky's mouth twitched up in a smile. "Here's the thing you gotta know about Stevie. It's an all-or-nothing deal with him. You must be pretty special to him if he's willing to try friends with benefits, 'cause normally, he's gotta have the romance with the sex."

You blinked. "Really?"

"Really." Bucky turned to you, eyes warm. "Don't worry, doll. Remember what I said to you about the party?"

"Wear blue?" You patted your skirt.

"No, about dancing with him. Give the poor boy a dance, and then see how you feel. If you don't feel that pretty little spark, then just tell him and you have to break it off totally. No fucking." Bucky looked back at the road. "I know it's not ideal, but that's the way Steve works."

"Okay," you said reluctantly. "I'll dance with him. I don't know if he'll dance with me, though. He seemed pretty offended."

Bucky pulled into the parking lot of the very impressive new facility and parked perfectly in the front row. "That's Steve for you. He's always been like that. Just remember-" Bucky got out of the car and walked around to open your door. "-all or nothing."

You took his arm and the two of you walked inside to your first party since college. "You much of a partier back in school?" Bucky asked.

"Just in my freshman year," you said, glancing around the room. There was a dance floor and a karaoke machine and a full liquor bar set up. "Buckled down and studied after that."

"Seems like you," Bucky said. "Never thought you'd actually come to one of these."

The two of you sat down at bar stools and Bucky ordered two beers. "Well, Sharon said it was mandatory," you laughed, clinking your bottle against Bucky's and taking a swig.

Bucky shot you a confused look. "These are never mandatory, Doc. You said Sharon said that?"

Slamming your hand on the bar, you cursed under your breath. "When I find you, Sharon Carter..." you threatened quietly.

"Uh, no need," Bucky muttered, smacking you on the arm. He gestured to a high-top table in the corner, where Sharon and Steve were sitting and talking. "Wanna dance?" he said, quickly changing the subject.

"Sure." You downed a couple more sips and joined Bucky on the dance floor. The song was upbeat and Bucky swung you around easily to it. It was the most fun you'd had in ages. Everything was so awesome, even the little corner where the kids of the employees were having a playdate. The glass around them was clearly soundproof and likely one-way, as they took no note of the festivities.

"I want a couple of those someday," you called over the din. "They're cute!"

Bucky laughed. "Tell that to the diapers!"

"What?"

"Hey, it's Bucky!" Peter popped up behind Bucky and gave him a friendly hug. He waved and said hi to you, then called Pietro over. "What a party!"

"It's her first one!" Bucky said, pointing at you.

You laughed. "Buck-" Unfortunately, you were rudely interrupted by Peter and Pietro both started yelling at you for not coming to the parties. "Guys, come on, it's not my element."

"You dance well, though!" Pietro shouted, smiling at you. Everything about him was so energetic and fun. You could see why Peter liked him.

The song cut out and the DJ turned to the microphone. "Alright, we're gonna slow things down a little, guys. Everybody grab a partner and come on down to the dancefloor!"

Peter shook Pietro's arm. "A slow song! Come on, I'll show you how to dance to these." He pulled the young man away from you and Bucky, chattering on about high school dances.

"Go." Bucky nudged you in the direction of Steve as the song started. "I'll grab Carter." He winked and headed for the table, offering his arm to Sharon. She took it and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Now was your chance. Forcing your legs to move, you walked over to the table, wobbling a little on your feet. Remembering a trick you'd seen in a movie (that had worked for them, dammit), you flicked Steve's shoulder and said, "Hey."

Steve looked up from his drink. "Hey."

"I'm sorry about earlier this week. I talked to Bucky, and..." you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Do you want to dance?" Steve filled the silence quickly, offering you his hand.

You took it, and Steve stood, pulling you gently to the dance floor. He set his right hand on your waist and took your hand in his free one. You in turn set your left hand on his shoulder and stepped close. Your chests were almost touching.

Swaying gently to the beat, Steve pulled your hands in closer. "If you talked to Buck, I'm sure he told you how I am with romance." His blue eyes burned into yours, beautiful in the dim light.

Steve was so fucking beautiful.

"It's all or nothing with me, doll," he continued, squeezing your hand. "If you want to keep what we're doing, that's fine, but I need to know that you feel something other than lust."

He hadn't shaved in a few days, and the lights illuminated his stubble. You smiled up at him and took your hand off his shoulder to brush over his jawline. "I do. I... Let's try it out, Steve."

His face lit up and his arm on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer, until his lips were at your forehead. "I'm gonna do this right, doll," he promised. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Steve."

"Tell me you like me, baby."

"I like you, you punk," you giggled, drawing on what you knew of Steve and Bucky in the 40's. "Let's dance."

Steve let go of your hand to cup your jaw and kiss you.

To your left, the wall of glass shattered and Sam Wilson burst in through the wreckage.