#thank you for the silly crab... i never knew i needed such a thing... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blainesebastian · 2 years ago

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familiarity (pt2)

words: 4,478 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (heavily requested for a part 2) a continuation of: readers friends are obsessed with austin and reader meets austin out and about. austin is intrigued by the reader’s lack of interest and is determined to get to know you notes: part one is here! warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @foreverdolly, @inkpot-winters

Something you can honestly say you never thought would happen in your life is standing in your kitchen as Austin Butler sifts through your coffee cup collection.

“There’s no reason to have this many.”

You smile a little, moving to lean against the island counter, watching him as you pour more cereal into the bowl in front of you. Maple Clusters, of course, an extra sprinkle of cinnamon and some honey. You spoon some into your mouth before the clusters can get soggy.

“There are plenty of reasons.” You reply, mouth slightly full, which makes Austin look over his shoulder at you in amusement. Swallowing, you then stick your tongue out at him.

He laughs lightly, “That’s cute—thanks.”

You’ve been hanging out on and off for the betterment of two weeks, nothing too serious, mostly lunch and breakfast dates, coffee, walking around various parks in New York. The season is turning a bit cooler, chilly, your favorite time to break out the jeans and sweaters. Pulling the sleeves down of the sweater you’re wearing over your hands, your eyes take in the black jeans and navy sweater that Austin’s got on—it definitely brings out the brightness in his eyes, highlights the blonde in his soft curls.

Definitely nice to look at.

You finish your cereal and put the bowl in the sink, joining him at the counter. “I mean, c’mon, I gotta have mugs to match my moods.” You pull out a giant red crab shaped mug that unironically reads have a crabby day or just a simple white mug with red letters that says not today, satan.

Austin is skeptical to say the least, picking up a dinosaur one that changes colors when you pour hot liquid into it. You smile, shaking your head before pulling two random ones from the cabinet to fill up with coffee. Austin can’t stay long, apparently he’s got an interview to go get ready for, and you can assume from the ones you’ve watched on YouTube, he’s not about to wear what he has on.

Shame really.

You’re kinda just…taking this thing day by day with him, unsure if you want to make promises or projections about what might come next. You really like hanging out with him and the chemistry fizzles between you like bacon in a hot skillet but…you’re also trying to be a realist as much as you can. You know exactly what it feels like to put so much effort and trust into someone only for them to break it. Hurt you.

You can’t go through that again.

You shake off the thoughts lingering in your mind, watching as Austin grabs cream and sugar and adds it to his coffee. And to his amusement the mug starts changing color, from a green dinosaur paradise to a red, comet filled sky.

“That’s slightly depressing.”

“Them’s the brakes.” You coin, picking up your mug to take a sip.

He hasn’t met your friends yet which you think is probably for the best, for now. They’re a little…much. In the best way, of course, but you also selfishly want to keep Austin to yourself. Besides, he enjoyed the fact that you didn’t automatically know who he was when you first met, mise well take advantage of the small bubble you two have created around yourselves.

“Oh, I tried that Blueberry cereal you were talkin’ about,” Austin licks his lips, “I see what you’re sayin’—gets soggy way too fast.”

“Right?” You laugh lightly, running a hand through your hair. Who knew running into Austin at Whole Foods would create this…domesticity about cereal, but it’s almost like a comfort topic, easy to come back to, easy to find common ground.

It might seem silly or stupid but you need conversations like that, especially since you’re unsure where this whole thing is going with him, where you want it to go. You keep second-guessing yourself that you even know what you’re doing or how to feel—Jason’s done a number on you in ways you don’t expect sometimes.

Austin glances down at his phone when it buzzes, swiping away a message before he slides it into his back pocket. You know he has to get going soon but he lingers, taking another sip of coffee,

“I was thinkin’ since we’re cutting this short, maybe tonight we could do somethin’. I could pick you up for dinner?”

You set your mug down and your entire body tries to tell you to say yes, why not, sounds great. And yet nothing comes out, you clamp up instantly, almost ready to swallow your own tongue. Austin watches you for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together slightly,

“Or not—breakfast is totally fine by me,” He smiles, “If that’s your thing.”

“No, I mean—yes, it’s,” You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were keeping in your lungs. You reach over and gently settle your palm along his wrist, using it to ground yourself in what you’re about to say,

“I’m sorry, I uh—” The words get trapped underneath your tongue and you feel a little helpless in settling them loose. Austin is patient, covering your hand with his, running his thumb along your knuckles.

He shakes his head, “You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to,” Because you do. The last thing you want is for Austin to think you’re not interested…which feels so ironic because a month or so ago your friends were attempting to convince you to see the Elvis movie once, let alone two or three times.

So much can change in such a small amount of time.

“I was with my ex, Jason, for seven years,” Your eyes travel over his face as he listens and it dawns on you that you’ve never really shared this with anyone else other than family, your best friends. You feel like that vulnerability might rip you in two but Austin’s eyes are calm, comforting in a way that maybe you should have expected.

“It was really good for a long time but…he just wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Austin frowns a little, standing up straight from leaning against the counter. “He hurt you?”

You nod—there’s no reason to give light to details, to unbury those where you’ve put tombstones. Austin, you’re sure, can use his imagination. Regardless, he gets the point. His face twists in soft empathy, gently reaching out with his other hand to play with a wave of hair near your cheek, tucking it behind your ear.

“M’sorry,” And so many people say that but there’s a wild difference in Austin’s tone—there’s no pity, he doesn’t feel sorry for you, but empathizes. He feels hurt because that’s how you feel.

You clear your throat, shaking your head, your chin dipping down as his fingers brush along your jawline, “It’s not your fault.” While acknowledgement is good, you also know it’s best not to dwell. You’ve been working on that, how best to move forward.

“But uh—I’d like to go out tonight, on a date with you.” You smile a little, “Dinner.”

He raises his eyebrows, hand falling from your chin, “You sure?”

Humming, you reach into the cabinet full of mugs to pull out a very specific one. It’s black and has little Magic 8 balls printed on it with the common phrase ‘ask again later’. And then you show him what it says on the inside, on the bottom, a blue triangle that says ‘signs point to yes’.

Austin smiles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “It’s a date.” Your stomach flutters instantly at the soft touch, skin flushing with blush.

“A date.” You confirm with a confident nod, putting the mug back into the cabinet.

“Girl, it’s a date not a root canal.”

You groan lightly as you sift through the clothes hanging up in your closet, attempting to find an outfit to wear tonight. Paige is right, this should be something that’s enjoyable for you—going out with Austin tonight on an official date, and yet you can’t remove this cinderblock of dread from sitting on your chest. You have to stop overthinking this, you’ve been out and in with Austin plenty of times, the only difference now is the hour of the day and dinner.

You can totally handle this…as long as you find something to wear.

You pull out a black dress and show it to your best friend who crinkles her nose, “What are you going to a funeral?”

Scowling, you put the dress back before looking through some other options, the hangers screeching against the pole they’re on as you move the metal back and forth. Paige gets up from her spot on the bed, peeking past you to try and help. She tugs out a few things that are casual but still highlight long lines of your body, your curves—Paige has always been good at this.

“We can do your makeup too—I’m thinkin’ red lipstick. Oh! Maroon.” She grins, moving to look at your vanity near the bed.

Running a hand over your forehead, you pick up the denim dress that Paige has pulled out and slip it on. It sits right above your knees, has short sleeves, buttons and a belt that clinches at your small waist. Looking down at yourself, you smooth your hands over the fabric and open the closet door a bit further to see what it looks like in the full-length mirror.

You think you were expecting some sort of transformation but…it’s just you, you in a nice dress. You smile a little, tugging out white booties to put on with it, Paige turning to look at you with a grin.

“God, he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop,” You laugh softly, allowing her to sit you down and give you some light makeup details, everything is pretty natural except the lip color, maroon. Definitely doesn’t look bad.

“Your one goal is to have fun tonight, okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully but you are smiling, “Yes, mom.”

“I mean it,” She grins, putting the makeup brushes away, “Austin’s a good guy and you deserve that, don’t forget it.”

And okay, that might take a little more work than you think. You’re so used to getting the short end of the stick, to constantly question people’s motives, feelings, dissect their words to make sure they actually mean what they say. It’s daunting and exhausting…but you do get a good feeling from Austin, he’s shown you who he is, you just have to trust that.

You stand from the bed, running a hand through your hair, “I’m working on it,” You promise, “Thanks for your help.”

Paige lingers for a few moments before disappearing to the kitchen…and coming back with shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. You laugh harshly, shaking your head,

“What are you doing?”

“Liquid courage,” She grins, putting the glasses on your nightstand and filling them up. “C’mon, I’m hoping to get you slightly tipsy so you’ll forget I’m here and let me talk to him.”

“No,” You shake your head, amused, “Not yet—let me get this date under my belt, okay?”

Paige huffs dramatically but you know she understands. You got a lot on your mind. She hands you your shot glass and you both playfully clink them together, “To Austin Butler’s fine ass.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as your cheeks kiss bright red. You definitely can’t turn down that kind of toast and raise your glass, throwing the liquid back.

The tequila is such a bad idea and you could really kick Paige in the ass for even bringing it into your bedroom. The first shot burns the back of your throat and you’re contemplating why people even do these things anyways because they’re fucking terrible. And then when your best friend leaves and you’re stuck with nothing but your worry and your thoughts as you wait for Austin to knock on your door…

One shot turns into three, which turns into taking sips directly out of the bottle.

It’s a slow process to quiet nerves but you don’t realize how strong it hits you until you’re wandering over to answer the door when there’s knocking. Glancing through the peep hole, you sway back on your heels to unlock the deadbolt, pulling it open to see Austin. He looks good because of course he does—a light pair of jeans with one hole in the knee, those same booties he loves to sport and a black sweater. You can see a silver chain on around his neck, underneath the fabric, paired with a selection of rings on his fingers (ugh). His hair is perfectly coifed in big dirty blonde curls and there has to be some sort of law he’s breaking with looking as good as he does.

It's hard not to think about, even when he speaks to you. Then you realize he’s asking you something and you blink.

“What?”

A soft sound of amusement, “I said, ‘hey, you ready to go?’ but I think the better question now would be, ‘are you checkin’ me out?’”

You scoff because isn’t everyone? And then you realize your filter is gone because you’ve said that out loud, a bloom of warmth kissing Austin’s cheeks. You raise your eyebrows, covering your face quickly with your hand, oh no.

“I mean—” You shake your head, “I dunno what you really expect when you walk around like that, with that face and whatnot.”

Austin’s eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth slightly open as he gently reaches for your wrist while you ramble, pulling your hand away from your face,

“And like—your hair does this whole wispy thing and do you even realize what you’re capable of when you’re wearin’ jewelry? It’s not fair.” Your voice definitely has a whining quality to it and Austin laughs a little,

“Hey,” He interrupts, “Are you—are you drunk?”

You stare at him for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek. You slowly shake your head even though it feels beyond obvious that you are and…you can see him glance past you into your apartment where the half-empty bottle of tequila sits on your coffee table.

“Maybe…just a little.” You offer quietly. Fuck, fuck—you hope he’s not upset or disappointed and…there’s probably a way you can sober up real quick and still salvage the night, go to dinner like you’d planned. God, did you mess everything up? “I didn’t…it wasn’t on purpose.”

Austin shakes his head, carefully backing you up into your apartment and letting the door close behind him, “It’s okay,” And his voice is so soft, so understanding, that instantly your eyes pinprick with tears and a lump appears in your throat.

There are two versions of you when you drink: either you’re a snuggler or a crier, there’s really no in-between. You have a very bad feeling you’re adopting the latter right now.

“We don’t have to go out tonight,” His voice is very soothing, like he can tell you’re teetering on the edge right now. His palms rest on your shoulders, dragging his touch down your arms, “We can stay in—order food, s’really not a big deal.”

“But you wanted to go out,” You sniffle, hating how choked your voice sounds. Oh my god, this is seriously so embarrassing. You could kill Paige for bringing that tequila bottle into your bedroom in the first place—even though you know it’s your fault for overdoing it.

“I don’t need to go out,” He chuckles warmly, cupping your cheek.

His thumb brushes away a tear that falls, “I put lipstick on and everything.”

Austin hums, “And it looks beautiful.”

You swallow thickly, letting those words sit in your chest for a few moments. In your hazy state, you try and sift through his language, trying to figure out if he really means what he says or he’s just trying to placate you because you’re drunk and crying in the middle of your apartment. But…the longer you look into his blue eyes, the more stable you feel yourself becoming. Austin is grounding, he’s two feet firmly planted on the ground, he’s safe.

And you believe him.

You nod softly and close your eyes a moment, trying to stop the room from spinning. You feel him shift forward, pressing a long kiss to your hairline before he’s helping you to the couch to sit down. Kneeling in front of you, he unzips your booties, taking them off and setting them to the side.

“Really important question—breakfast or burgers?”

You blink, eyebrows drawing together in confusion until you remember he mentioned ordering food. Oh. “French toast and French fries.”

Austin smiles, nodding his head as he squeezes your knee and stands from the floor. “Course, why didn’t I think of that?”

As you lean back against the cushions of the couch, he wanders over to the kitchen to grab glasses of water. Bringing them back over, he sets them down on the coffee table before typing into his phone, most likely an Uber Eats order. You lean against the arm of the couch where a bunch of pillows are and wish more than anything you weren’t wearing this denim dress because it suddenly feels too tight.

“Your sweater is nice,” You comment after a moment, running a hand through your hair. “You could be dating a model or somethin’ you know, and you’re here with me.”

He blinks with the whiplash of conversation jumping, finishing up the order placement on his phone before setting it aside on the coffee table. Austin picks up the water to hand you, your fingers brushing as you take the glass from him and have a few large gulps.

“Why date a model when I could be with someone who has thirty unnecessary mugs in her kitchen cabinet?”

You smile suddenly, laughing, which makes the corners of his mouth pull up. “I have forty-five, and they’re all necessary.”

“Well even better.”

“You can make cinnamon rolls in mugs you know, like in the microwave? Like little mini-cakes,” You tell him matter-of-factly, “Clearly you have not considered this in bashing my collection.”

Austin shakes his head, taking a sip from his own water glass, “I obviously got a few things to learn.”

You hum, “I’ll show you tomorrow when my kitchen isn’t bein’ so rude and spinning like that.” Running a hand through your hair, you take another long sip of water, “Will you be here tomorrow?” You swallow, half expecting him to disappear at any moment. You also understand, even through the daze of tequila, that he’s a busy man with his own schedule. Just because you’re…like this does not mean he’ll be available tomorrow.

“I’ll be here,” He promises, “Got nothin’ to do tomorrow.”

That answer is really satisfying and you’re not sure whether you say that outloud or not, but Austin is smiling as he brushes your hair over your shoulder, standing to go towards the apartment door with his phone. The food he ordered must be here and damn that was fast.

The night moves on slowly or maybe not, it’s hard to tell. All you know is that one moment you’re shoving food in your face and miraculously not getting syrup or ketchup on your denim dress and then making your way to your bathroom to change your clothes and wipe your makeup off.

“No peaking.” You point at Austin but don’t even bother to close the door when you take your dress down.

Austin quickly turns away, a soft laugh leaving his throat, “Wouldn’t dream of it—lemme know if you need help though, alright?” And that…comment is totally acceptable because at one point you have to grab the corner of the sink so you don’t end up on the floor.

It takes you a moment to realize, when you walk out of the bathroom, that Austin just has a white t-shirt on now and you look down at what you’ve pulled on and that’s right. He’s given you that black, waffle-knit sweater he was wearing, to pull over your head. The sleeves are too long and it smells so much like him, cologne mixed with something distinctly Austin.

You hope he realizes he may never get this thing back.

There’s this moment as he pulls the sheets down on your bed that you know you want to kiss him, like—just plant one right on his lips, especially with how nice he’s been tonight. You think about it, you play it out in your head what you’d say or what it’d be like to just go for it. But you already know the type of man Austin is, and he’s not going to roll with it while you’re intoxicated…but you kinda like him all the more for that.

Instead, when he helps you between the sheets, you gently tug on his wrist before he leaves. “I really like that you wear sweaters and take cereal very seriously,” You plant a kiss on his cheekbone, letting the touch linger for a moment before pulling back, “Even though you talk shit on my mug collection.”

Austin laughs, the sound warm and it fills up your chest in the very best way. He pulls the blankets over your shoulder, saying something in response but you’re already asleep the minute your head hits the pillow.

Morning seems to come far too soon, sunlight sneaking in through the windows and blinds of your bedroom and smacking you directly in the face. You groan lightly, pressing your face into your pillow and attempting to make yourself smaller. The headache you’ve got pulsing in your temples somehow stretches outward and pulls at the muscles in your neck. Fuck, you’re going to die. This is terrible.

Bringing up a hand to rub at your eyes, you catch the scent of the sleeve and—sandalwood. You practically give yourself whiplash pulling your arm away, blinking at the sweater in question and oh my god, last night actually happened. And you don’t have the luxury of forgetting it, either, your drunken moments are usually imprinted on your memory in detail. While it wasn’t completely terrible, always can be worse, your very embarrassed at Austin arriving at your place for a date and there you are, drunk, a mess. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut.

At least he’s probably gone home by now and you can avoid him for however long it takes to reset your dignity.

Except—

Except the smell of coffee suddenly assaults your senses and your bedroom door cracks open…and Austin is there, with two cups of coffee, looking utterly adorable and slept on. He must have stayed over on the couch, hair a bit mussed but still attractive, cheeks warm with the imprint of pillows on one of them. You shake your head a little—this can not be happening.

He smiles a little when he sees you’re awake, moving to sit down on the bed near your hip. He places one of the cups of coffee on the nightstand and holds the other between his hands,

“Glad to see you’re alive.” He teases and you groan lightly in response, pinching the bridge of your nose because you’re not so sure. “You got a headache?”

You nod, no words forming on your tongue, but you feel the bed shift and Austin must get up to draw the blinds a bit tighter to prevent the light from spilling in. It helps a little when you fix your gaze on him again.

“It’s not fair that you look like that when you wake up,” Your voice is slightly strained, signs of sleep still imprinted on it.

He smirks moving to brush your hair out of your face, his fingers slipping along your jawline, “Drink the coffee, you’ll feel better.”

“Doubtful.” You mumble but do as you’re told, leaning against the headboard and taking the coffee cup into your hands to take a sip.

Honestly, you know you will start to feel better after the second cup of coffee and maybe a light breakfast. You’re not that hungover, but it’s moreso you feel ashamed about your behavior last night and you can’t believe this man not only stuck around but made coffee for you the next day. You swallow, looking down into the cup, not even sure what to say.

“I’m sorry—” You blurt out, looking up at him. Austin’s eyebrows draw together in light confusion, waiting for you to explain, “About last night, I did want to go out with you.”

He shakes his head, “Y/N,” A soft smile on his lips, “You really don’t have to apologize, there are plenty of other nights we can go out.”

Your forehead crinkles lightly as you move to set aside the coffee on the nightstand, stomach bubbling in butterflied nerves as you attempt to find the right words to explain. Even though you know Austin doesn’t need to hear it, you feel like the honesty is important,

“I just got caught up, I haven’t been on a date since…”

Austin fills in the blank, “Your ex.”

And God, you hate to have to bring him up again, to give his past actions so much power but…if you can’t be honest with yourself, you don’t think you’ll be able to move forward with anybody. You crinkle your nose, a soft frustrated noise that almost sounds like a laugh,

“I just panicked; I just so wanted our first date to be…perfect.” And you should know better than to use that word because nothing ever is. Not only that, you feel like you only made last night worse instead of what it could have been.

Austin reaches out to touch your hand, making sure you’re looking up at him when he says, “But it was, I was with you.”

Maybe that line would sound cheesy coming from anyone else, but there’s a genuine warmth that comes from Austin when he says it, so much so that it reaches inside your chest and squeezes. And suddenly you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward and kissing him, albeit quickly, to the corner of his mouth.

Austin doesn’t backdown from that, using the opportune moment to continue the kiss, cupping your cheek to give you a proper one. His lips move against yours slowly, patiently, drinking one another in. It’s one of the most addictive things you’ve ever felt. Your heartrate is in your ears when he pulls away and you can’t stop yourself from licking your own lips,

“Believe you mentioned somethin’ about cinnamon rolls in coffee mugs last night?”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding, before pulling the sheets back to start the day.

Really enjoyed adding a part 2 to this! thanks for reading or liking, reblogging, commenting, leaving asks! I really appreciate it :)

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #familiarity

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diavolosthots · 4 years ago

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DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 12

READ CHAPTER 11 HERE

Warnings: mentions of rape, non-con, kidnapping, usage of sleeping drugs

Pairing(s): Diavolo x F!reader, the brothers, lucifer x F!reader

Authors note: im fucking pissed at Solmare and Diavolo right now so I decided to continue this and give Diavolo some much deserved pain.

You hated him. You hated him so much. He was so confusing, too, which makes you feel even worse. One moment he’s ordering you around like the little puppy that he believes you are, and the next you’re in his arms and he’s comforting you. It messed with your emotions and your head and you didn’t know if you wanted more of it or to lock yourself away. At this rate, even Cerberus’ slobber was better than being tossed around like that, but you wouldn’t dare say that out loud because Diavolo would actually take you back down there if he was given the chance, no remorse or guilt evident. After last night, part of you even believed that he only did this for show, to gain your trust and then beat it back down. You hated how he felt, but you hated even more how much your body seemed to enjoy it. He wasn’t ugly to look at either, so seeing him on top of you, you couldn’t even be disgusted by it, not fully at least. “I’ll never love you!” You winced at the memory, feeling the sting from the slap he delivered right after your words. If only someone actually cared about that.

Right now, your bed was empty and it reminded you on the first night you slept together with him, where he forced himself on you, and then left you alone in an unfamiliar room the next morning. You didn’t need to get up to know that the room door was locked, much like it had been the first night, but you did need to get up to try and wash yourself. You had long given up on the crying; tears only spurted him on and gave him a reason to further break you. Instead, you started to feel numb. The angels never came to save you, no matter how much you prayed to them, and you started to believe that God couldn’t give two flying feathers about you. Sadly, you couldn’t turn to the Devil in his absence. You didn’t even know where Diavolo was right now; at least in the beginning, he’d be so kind to tell you he was in his office or off with Barbatos somewhere, you know, anything. Should you know where he was right now? A good wife knows where her husband is, no? But then again, this wasn’t a normal marriage.

You allowed yourself to fill up the bathtub with hot water and plenty of bubbles. Your legs ached, your abdomen ached, and you could feel his leftover cum drip from between your legs. Part of you didn’t care anymore, but another part was, thankfully, still disgusted by the action and rational enough to get in the tub to try and wash it off. If there was one thing that you thoroughly enjoyed about this castle, as silly as it sounds, it was this giant gold bathtub, that seemingly swallowed you up and let you hide beneath the bubbles. The hot water brought relaxation to your sore muscles and the bubbles just made you happy; just a little bit of happiness in a world God has long forgotten. “I’m sorry…” You apologized to yourself, washing over your body as gently as you could while still getting rid of anything he left on you the night before. You owed your body, your soul, yourself that apology… it helped you think straight. You also spoke it to Lucifer, silently, for lying to him, for leaving him, for not giving him the chance to help you, although you doubted that he truly could.

“I accept your apology.” Your body immediately stiffened at his voice, but you refused to turn your head, keeping your hands moving by continuing to wash yourself. Diavolo, for whatever reason, was so certain that you’re just not broken enough yet to fully submit yourself to a husband, specifically him. That’s what last night was about, a struggle to prove his reign over you and sadly, momentarily, he had won. You didn’t speak back to him, keeping your eyes on your hands’ movements in hopes that he would soon get bored and leave again. What is it with him always barging in when you’re in the bathroom? “No Good Morning? Where are your manners?” He chuckled, although you knew better than to believe it, knowing that he was annoyed already. He positioned himself behind you, pinking up the sponge to clean over your back, but honestly you were just thankful that he didn’t try to join you in the bath. There was space between you right now, and although it was just the rim of the bathtub, and honestly not that much, it brought you some sort of comfort.

“I won’t be here today,” then why is he? “I’m sure you enjoy that,” you do, “but Michael scheduled a meeting with me.” Michael? “You know of Michael, do you not?” Yes, but you don’t like the way this is going, “I’d love to have you there. As the Queen, My Queen, you should be there, but he insisted on it just being us,” what a bummer, “that’s why I’m sad to announce that you’ll be here for your day. I made sure to have Barbatos ready to comply with your every request and need, “ how wonderful. The shady butler. “I hope that’s to your liking.” You felt him move again, presumably standing back up, but his eyes were still on you, “can I at least have a good morning?” It almost seemed normal right there. Just a regular couple trying to make up after a regular couple’s fight, but this isn’t a regular couple thing, so you shook your head. Diavolo grew angry, but he opted for a sigh instead, reminding you, “this could all be easy on you, yet you choose to make it more difficult. I can’t keep giving you a warning and let you get away. Think about your actions before you force me to do something both of us will regret.” You hated the thought of something even worse happening, but you still didn’t dare look at him, only slightly turning your head instead.

“Good morning… have a good day….” The words sounded forced, even a bit scared, but Diavolo smiled at them, ever so softly, and then he moved back closer again, turning your head a bit with his hand, forcing you to look up at him, “was that so hard?” Yes. He leaned in to kiss your head softly, not your lips, just a loving kiss to the forehead, that once again, almost felt too normal, too nice. “Have a good day as well.” He didn’t push it. He didn’t force anything else. He left it at that and then he left completely, leaving you alone in the bathtub, in the bathroom, in the castle, with only yourself as a companion. “Michael, huh…? Wonder if he ever heard my prayers…”

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

Lucifer waited. He waited a long time, asking Beel to go in first. Honestly the whole plan was absurd and he doubted he could pull it off on many occasions. Barbatos was everywhere and even with the spell he placed on himself and Leviathan, everyone else was in danger. Leviathan managed to spy out the castle by hacking into the cameras and they were incredibly lucky when they saw Diavolo leave, albeit by himself which meant that Barbatos was still inside and presumably watching your every move. That’s why they send Beel. He could easily disguise himself as wanting some of Barbatos’ food and Lucifer watched as the younger managed to slip inside the castle’s walls. Of course, none of the others were actually at the castle yet; that’d be too risky. They send Beel ahead while they watch from the safety of Levi’s computers, making sure everything goes according to plan.

“What are you doing here, Beelzebub? Tea?” Beel nodded happily, holding his hand to grab the cup from Barbatos, quickly thinking of a fool proof reason. “I know you’re busy… but at the buffet, you know, during the wedding, you had these crab cakes…” “You want me to make you some, don’t you?” Beel blushed softly, nodding while taking a sip of his tea, “yes please… I can’t stop thinking about them. Everything you make is delicious, but I think that was my favorite.” Barbatos actually found himself smiling. Beel was always one of his favorite test tasters because although the demon liked everything, he still gave really good feedback. “Very well. I just delivered breakfast to the Queen so I have some free time before lunch. Perhaps she will enjoy them as well if we make her some.” Beel’s eyes seemed to sparkle and he quickly nodded, “you’ll let me help? May I come with you when you deliver them?” Barbatos eyes Beelzebub for a while, thinking about his request before walking over to the fridge to get the ingredients out, “yes and no. You can help me, but My Lord is currently not at home and thus I can’t allow anyone else near the Queen. You understand, don’t you?” It was a bummer, to say the least, but Beel knew that he actually couldn’t see you anyway. He’s supposed to keep Barbatos distracted. “You may write a note, though.” and that was all he needed.

While Beel did his best to keep Barbatos occupied, Lucifer and the rest were on the move. Even Satan helped out willingly and Belphegor finally arose from his slumber to help Lucifer out with this. They all missed you more than you could imagine so teaming up for them was a no brainer. You meant a lot to all of them. “Oh this is so exciting!!” “You think we can sell her ring?” “We need to watch out for the guards outside.” Only the last one really mattered to Lucifer. Perks of having wings is that you could fly. Downside was that the brothers without wings had to be carried. He currently carried Leviathan and only because the third born had access to the cameras on his DDD. “I know a blindspot to the castle. None of the guards go there. The old King, Diavolo’s father, used to take his torture games back there and none of the guards particularly like it.” Levi nodded, turning his head to look up at Lucifer, “good good...you think this is a good idea?” Lucifer looked down at Levi, his face unreadable, “no, but I have to get her out of there.”

It was hard to fly as a group and not get spotted but somehow, by some form of miracle, they managed to land on the castle’s roof, crawling around to find the balcony connected to Diavolo’s chambers, where he knew you’d be at. For once in a few millennia, he silently prayed that Beel is keeping Barbatos busy so they have enough time, “you’re good to go in…” Levi looked at him worriedly, and even Satan shot him a quick glance that held something more than disapproval. All of them were worried, not just for you, but also for Lucifer. One wrong move and he could get caught, and sadly, no matter how close Diavolo likes to pretend they are, this wouldn’t end well for him. “Thank you… I trust you have my back.” Lucifer knew he could rely on them. Whenever it came down to it, his brothers were loyal and protective, just as he is to them. With that in mind, and fear in his heart, he dared open the balcony windows.

Immediately, a strong smell of your scent along with Diavolo’s entered his nostrils and he both loved and hated it. He missed you, a lot more than he allows himself to admit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cloth, laced with drugs to keep you quiet and unconscious while he and his brothers do the rest. He hated doing this, truly, but he can’t risk doing anything wrong, not with this, not when it comes to you. Sounds are coming from the bathroom and for a moment he feared Diavolo was still around, but it was just your sweet voice he heard. His heart ached; he hated this. “I’m sorry, Darling…. Please forgive me…” he’s whispering to himself, finding the courage to make his way to the door and slowly open it.

Steam from the bathroom along with your cent and the sight of your naked body met him and he’s quick to hold the cloth up to your nose. You struggled, obviously scared, but he wraps his arms tightly around you, “ssh… it’s okay.” “Lu!.....” the drugs worked quick and he silently thanked them for it, wrapping his coat around your naked body before draining the tub and turning off the light, trying to make it seem like you either did something dumb or left willingly. Lucifer couldn’t look at you too long, the pain bearing too much. So, he picked you up swiftly and flew out, motioning for the rest of his brothers to follow quickly after, leaving the balcony doors open.

Lucifer knew that what he had just done was far beyond what Belphegor did, far beyond treason against the now King. This was life threatening, this was unimaginable suffering, but most of all,

this was a call for war.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me lord diavolo #shall we date diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me #obey me diavolo x reader #dark deception #mentions of r*pe #kidnapping #tw drugs

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theasstour · 4 years ago

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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 🌊

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #het fic #1dff #:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD #PLS DO COME CHAT ONCE YOU'RE DONE READING MWWAH

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factual-fantasy · 4 years ago

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21 asks, some old some new, all basically just heart warming compliments. ♡ඩᴗඩ♡

You’re welcome!! And thank you so much!! Something I always love to do with characters like this is give them some crazy depth. Give answers for things that the media they’re from never answers. I always work really hard to make it all fit together and really feel natural and I’m so happy you noticed! (இ﹏இ`｡)

I’ll be sure to. I’m still feeling really crummy mentally, but taking a break from my lovely community of fans certainly didn’t make me feel any better. XD

Pfff Kitty cat Pirate man XD

Well you’re sort of right. Captain Barnacles is my favorite character 100%, but the reason why I draw those two together so often is because the show has established that they are really good friends.

Where ever the Captain is, Kwazii is usually nearby. Kwazii was the only one that knew about the Captains fear, Kwazii is the Octonauts lieutenant, which probably means that they spend a lot time around each other. They share a bed pod, they have had these little interactions that don’t happen with anyone else. Like fist bumps, shoulder pats etc.

They’re even used as an example of symbiosis in the crab and urchin episode! Now, you can interpret that how you’d like, but I believe the show is somewhat subtly trying to push the point that these two are best friends, like family even.

So when ever I draw Captain Barnacles, I always have an incentive to draw Kwazii with him. :}

Honestly by my headcannons, I feel like Kwazii would need it more than anyone else really. But yeah, the Captain could really use me a pick me up. XD

Dawww you’re welcome, I’m just glad everyone likes my art so much. ♡●ᴗ●♡

Th-Thank you!! That’s so sweet!! I’ll Be sure to keep making them!- Be sure to drop in some suggestions you guys so I know what ya’ll want to see!! :}

COMMERE YOU

(before I left for a break)

Well I may have needed more time to “relax”, but I just missed you guys too much lol.

Wow! That’s a lot of shows! I don’t recall really watching.. any of them.. any way uh- that aside, there are several shows I used to watch as a kid. Some weren’t meant for kids but were still funny to me.

For one, like I’m sure a lot of people did, I watched SpongeBob.

I also used to watch, of course, Octonauts. Although that was when I was a wee bit older.

I also used to watch The Three Stooges.. this one was for adults I think but it was still hilarious.

I also used to watch Beetle Baily, although this one was kind of like a once a year tradition type thing we did.

There may be one or two more but I don’t recall.. I mean, we did have one episode of speed racer that I watched over and over and over again. Or.. was it a movie? Heh, I uh, cant really recall..

(after my break announcement)

Thank you, turns out taking a break from Tumblr kind’a just made me miss the community. I felt really awful while I was gone but feel a little better after returning sooo.... guess I’m hangin around for a little while longer! :}

No I don’t ship anyone personally, although I can see how some of their dynamics could be seen like that.

Oh! No worries, that’s alright, and that thing is in the description as a heads up kind’a. If I tag my own art as ship or explicitly say it is okay to do so, then go for it. I just don't usually ship characters and don't want my art to be perceived incorrectly..

I have watched both Octonauts movies and season 1-3 on Netflix. When it comes to season 4, so far I haven't had much trouble just finding it on YouTube.

When it comes to watching season 4 in order, just go to the episode wiki, find the names in order and keep searching on YouTube until you’re sure you’re on the right episode. Pretty sure you can find basically all the Octonauts episode this way, go ahead and give it a shot! Hope it works!

To keep the fourth wall breaking to a minimum, what would my Transformer OCs think of Octonauts?

Suburban, A.T.Dragster, Green Truck, Escort, Vega, Red Van, Brown Suburban, Miata, AND Honda, most likely wouldn't really be interested and wouldn’t really have an opinion on the show, but they don't make fun of anyone who does watch it. No matter how old. Volvo specifically would respect the educational aspect of the show and most likely wouldn’t pick on anyone for watching it either.

U.M.Dragster would kind’a poke fun at the show and its imperfections. But low key is peeking around the corner wanting to know what the characters do next.

White Truck thinks it pretty cool and kind’a likes to watch it with others, but wont really go out of his way to watch it on his own.

Beluga would probably think its really cute, bet 10 bucks her favorite character is Kwazii.

Ranger would be hooked. She loves everything about Earths water and want’s to learn everything about it. Including the creatures that live in it. She would appreciate the show “dumbing everything down” for her, because she doesn’t know these basic things that kids know. Having everything “dumbed down” makes it easier for her to understand everything.

Jeepy’s driver used to make fun of me for watching it, but now he thinks it neat. So maybe he’d think its silly but eventually come around?

Bash Buggy cant see the screen-

But really Its cool though, he wouldn’t be all that interested in it even if he could watch it anyway.

Daww thank you! ♡●ᴗ●♡

Oh how cool! I never thought so many people grew up watching this too, I thought this show was really obscure! Glad I can share the nostalgia and joy with ya’ll through my art! :}

You mean the Vegimals? These little dudes?

I just haven’t had a good opportunity to draw them yet is all.

Hmmmm.... let me think.. I feel like my Transformer OCs would mostly like certain aspects of seasonal things, not one season and all of its aesthetics as a whole.

Suburban, Red Van, Escort, Brown Suburban and Green Truck love the bonfire part of colder weather. The warm, bright and surrounded by loved ones aspect of it is what they enjoy. Especially Brown Suburban. He loves bonfires man. The more light and heat the better, that poor mech is freezing his aft off out there in that old manky dark shed all by himself. He just wants to be around his loved ones where its warm and bright.

Miata would probably like pumpkin spice lattes, and just that aspect of fall. Beluga and Honda however would be all over fall and all its traditions. They’d be all over every season really, always up to date with trends and having fun.

The Dragsters are all about summer and its aesthetics. Summer is the prime time for dragstrips and the weather they function most efficiently in so they’re all for it.

Vega is more about fall. Sure its not really racing weather, but he does like all the pretty colors and the temperature is just right for him.

White Truck would like summer the most. He’d like the attire, the swimming, the warmth, all of it. He’d function a little on the edge I’d think though, he does have a bit of an overheating issue.. but still, I think summers for the win.

Ranger would like summer. Summer = more fish in the water. She loves to look at fish and be out in the water and just explore everything. Summer is when most of the fish are around so she’d really enjoy that. When it comes to seasonal outfits and food? Meh, waters cooler.

Volvo doesn't care for any weather or aesthetics honestly. But would prefer fall for its cooler temperatures. Having so many layers of armor is bound to make you overheat eventually.

Jeepy would like the fall and winter most of all, because of MUD. Going slipin, driftin and slidin with Bash is a real hoot, so he’d really like those seasons. He’s just built for them you know? Plus he’d kill a man for a glass of eggnog so he likes that aspect of cooler seasons too. :}

Bash Buggy likes summer and spring for the temperatures mostly. He also likes winter and fall, but because of the mud, he doesn’t like them for any other reason. Just the mud and goofing around with Jeepy. Everything else about those cold seasons are terrible, and he cant even see all the pretty colors and aesthetics so what does it matter? His body has no insulation anymore so the cold just eats him up, and he cant go outside in the snow because of his blindness and the cold. So he’s stuck shivering indoors while his friends go goof around in the snow without him. Colder seasons suck besides mud, the warmer ones are a win.

I don’t know, it just kind’a makes me uncomfortable. Not all artists are the same, not all artists like that.

It kind of feels like stealing to me in a way, I just don’t like it..

I want to, but I am completely halted by the knowledge that these comics don’t get much traction. They only get a handful of notes when I post them, which just makes them feel like a waste of time.

I’m weird about time. I don't like talking about my interests with others because I know I’m wasting their time and they don’t care anyway.

I am heavily discouraged to draw things online, not just because people steal, but because only a handful of people truly care and get excited about them.

And I mean, a handful of lovely followers, is a handful lovely followers. But you can see how a people pleaser like me would drift towards what people want me to draw instead of what I want to draw.

And when it comes to what people want me to draw? Besides those lovely few, people don’t want to see my comics.

#my response #octonauts #transformer ocs #about me

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f0xwrite · 3 years ago

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A snippet from Andaman...written circa 2018. (Rated T for alightly mature themes)

The sound of cool, clear waves lapping against the entrance of the cave in the moonlight mixed soothingly with the subdued gusts of the ocean’s tropic breeze, lulling Walter into a sleepy daze. Somewhere in the distance,dolphins still splashed in the frothy brine, their noise mixing strangely with the steady hum of insects, and the haunting call of the occasional bird. A small and dying fire crackled along the edge of his hidden cove, charring the remains of his barely-touched dinner.

He’d given up on trying to summon Morgana. Varied macabre attempts at trying to get her attention had proven futile. It didn’t matter which variety of star-lit ritual she performed, or how many times he said her name, there was never any answer save for the island breeze. He would have done better to stay in Myeik at the Hotel Grand Jade, drinking his weight in the jugs of palm wine he’d bummed off of one of the locals. The hotel was dated, but comfortable. He’d paid for his stay in cold cash--as untraceable as it was uncanny--and from the top floor he’d felt safe enough staking out until he could chart a course to North Sentinel Island. Not many would be willing to take the chance of drawing close enough to the island for him to easily swim ashore, especially at night.

The indigenous peoples of North Sentinel Island were known to be hostile, rejecting all contact with the outside world and killing anyone who stepped foot on their sands. Many had died in the pursuit of aiding or interfering with their lifestyle, or had been arrested by the Indian navy for coming too close. It would take a hefty sum to convince anyone to charter him across. Arriving in his own vessel was not an option—he’d have to sink the boat, and the risk of being spotted in unfamiliar waters was too high. Money wasn’t an object, of course, as long as he’d been around, but people often wanted something less traceable, in case the government came a-looking.

He’d purchased a motorcycle, one with a small enough engine to maneuver easily through the streets, but powerful enough to make a quick getaway if needed--Janus would be on his heels in moments if they caught wind, and he’d been in the hierarchy long enough to know that they were never very far behind. Thus outfitted, he’d traveled, often ferrying to Andaman island to search for the idea hire. To the people there, he looked relatively normal--a traveler, but one well versed in their ways and culture. Instead of his typical brown suit and jumper he wore a light tunic, sandals, and khakis. His hair had grown longer—partially induced by a spell—and the light traces of a beard cast shadows around his face. After years in clean-cut Arcadia, he’d barely recognized himself in the mirror. Barbara, even if she hadn’t been stripped of her memory, would struggle to find familiarity in this new visage.

Barbara.

For every memory Vendel’s incantation had taken from her, his seemed to have increased tenfold. Every impossibly blue wave reminded him of her eyes, every hungry fire of her flame-brushed hair, every tremulous star of her vibrant soul. Much like the water in her namesake, there was no shape he could find that she couldn’t fill, save for the gaping holes she’d left in him.

Every step of his journey, he’d been haunted.

He’d managed to track down a willing candidate to take him to the island. An younger fisherman man with a new family who was in desperate need of a new form of transportation. For the cost of a the motorcycle, he’d found himself sneaking off on a small fishing vessel in the middle of the night. There had only been one small scare with a navy boat, but they’d gotten lucky, and the journey was otherwise flawless. When he’d finally waded onto the perilous sands of North Sentinel’s shore, dry-sacks in hand, and waved his hired hand off, he was met with an eerie silence.

The bustle of the city and the boats had been some distraction, but this..he would never stop thinking about her.

And he hadn’t, not even two months later, no matter how many times he tried to summon Morgana back. Now, by his crackling fire, he thought of her again, and of her son, and of how he’d wronged them. He’d caught wind of Angor’s defeat and Jim’s disappearance into the Darklands in an internet cafe before he’d stranded himself. Oh course the boy had gone alone. Altruism at his finest. He wondered if Barbara even knew, and if she did, god help him.

To these thoughts, he drifted into a sleep-like trance, where the memories always flooded in:

He’s standing in the California breeze, two ice cream cones in hand, searching for her blue eyes in the sea of moving faces on the street.

“Walter!” he turns to see her making her way through a cluster of teenagers. School is out for the afternoon, and the world is buzzing with the excitement of Friday night. Her face is warm and bright as she strides up to him, and he spreads his arms wide to avoid dripping on her lab-coat as she slides her arms around him in a hug.

“Fresh from the parlor,” he pecks the top of her red head before pulling away to lower the cone in front of her. “Strawberry, as the lady requested.”

“I see you got the same thing.” She smiles as her hand wraps around the pointed cone.

“How could I resist?” His tongue flicks out to catch a drop of cream along his own cone, smiling when her pupils dilate.

The next few minutes are spent happily licking away as they walk through the warm spring air, making their way toward the local park.

It’s when they’re walking by the pond, that it catches his eye.

“Dr. Barbara V. Lake,” He reads aloud, pausing to stand in front of her. “I haven’t seen this coat before. What does the V stand for?”

“V for very, very, very happy to see you right now.” She jokes and then bites into the cone.

“Oh, come now.” They both wince as she gets brain-freeze. “Surely you’ll tell me.”

“Hmm, what do I get out of it?” Her smile grows coy.

“Dinner,” he clears his throat, brandishing his own sultry look as he finishes his cone. “Chinese. I’ll buy extra eggrolls.”

“You really know how to woo a woman.”

“I do,” he bites his lip.

“Viviane.”

Something jolted within him—a bit of memory, a quick blur—causing the foundations of his soul to settle, as though they’d been out-of-sorts his entire life.

“It’s beautiful.” He bent low to kiss the space above her ear. “And it suits you.”

He watches as his voice makes her spine shiver shiver, and she almost drops her cone. “Well, I hope so. It was my grandmothers name. I take after her in almost every regard. She was a nurse in the army, you know. Traveled the whole world. I used to listen to all of her incredible stories.”

“I should thank her for raising such an incredible spirit.”

“I wish you could. She’s gone now.” Barbara’s eyes grow heavy, “died right around the time that James left, actually. She would have <i>loved</i> you,” she smiled into his neckline.

“Oh really?” Humor bubbled from his throat.

“Well, you have an intoxicating sense of charm, and she had this massive thing for piano-hands.”

Stepping back, Walter moves to wrap his arms around her from behind as they gaze over the pond. “Couldn’t blame her. I’ve got some rousing sonatas up my sleeve.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was just about the musical skill.” She chuckles. "Grammy was a fireball."

“In that case, I also have some ‘a’rousing sonatas,” he said in a beat.

They both laugh, melting into the syrupy sweetness of the moment, bodies swaying, pendulum-slow in a half-dance that leads them nowhere.

He woke.

“Viviane” He muttered to the silver-tipped waves, eyes blinking past the moonlight. “I’ve heard that name before. But where?” A scuttling crab distracted his gaze, and then his head fell back against the palm-fronds.

The next dreams weren’t rooted in his memory. They were silly, really, nothing of consequence--full of deep and ancient forests, bloodied horns against bovine fur, and the soft, bright bloom of a fragile flower.

#stricklake #walter strickler #barbara lake #andaman

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takerfoxx · 4 years ago

Text

Well, in honor of the Rebellion sequel FINALLY being announced, here’s something I was going to do today anyway! Here’s the second part of the crew of Walpurgis Nights watch The Rebellion Story, stretching from Madoka arriving at the school to Hitomi’s nightmare!

Note: I originally was going to write this as one big piece and release it all at once, but then I realized what a dumb idea that would be, so it’s going to get released in chunks as they’re finished.

Note the 2nd: Every time a prolonged conversation takes place, just assume that they’re pausing the movie to talk.

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

G: You know, I can’t get over Tavi having legs, or Fee having hair.

Op: It does look good, I gotta say. Must’ve been a bitch to keep it looking so fresh though.

Ch: And probably sets fewer low-hanging branches alight or set off fewer sprinklers.

Op: As far as you know. That style is smokin’

…

H: Seeing all those boys is…weird.

Ch: I know what you mean. I mean, I can picture what they look like, and I’ve seen recreations, but even still…

G: It is interesting to think about. I mean, here it’s perfectly normal for girls to get into relationships with other girls. But there girls like us would be a minority.

Op: Can’t imagine why. Now that I’m seeing them…not really getting the appeal. They don’t even have tits!

Ch: I guess you had to be there.

Ok: Hey, is it true that girls who liked other girls got picked on a lot?

Ca: Well, that’s an oversimplification of a serious problem, and I certainly never saw it happen. But then, I was a little…sheltered. And yes, in some places of the world, that does unfortunately happen. And worst.

G: Poor girls.

Ch: And guys. It happens to the gay guys too.

Op: I never got the gay thing. I mean, using the word as an insult. Like, why would that even be something to be ashamed of?

Ca: That’s…a really complicated question, and I’m not sure I’m really qualified to explain.

G: Well, I think they’re just being silly! I don’t see how anyone could see anything wrong with this!

=Gretchen leans over to give Homulilly a small kiss on the lips. Homulilly is more than happy to reciprocate=

Op: GAAAAY!

=Homulilly smacks Ophelia upside the head=

Ca: All of…that aside, I have to say, this is sort of nostalgic.

Ch: Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Ca: Oh, relax. I mean, just this. The school. The girls and the boys. The uniforms. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be struck with an uncontrollable desire for penis.

Op: Though if you do, I know a girl who-

Ca: Thank you, Ophelia. Please don’t finish that thought.

…

Op: Ha. Still a rebel, even then.

Ca: You were. You definitely were. Even more than this version. At least this version of you is going to school.

Op: And Tavi’s the goody-goody, sneaking off…hold up.

Ok: What?

Op: Rewind it a bit.

Ch: Okay…?

Op: So, does this version of me and Oktavia…do we live together?

Ch: Huh?

H: What?

Op: How would she know about me slacking on my homework after school if she wasn’t there? Like, in the same house?

Ca: W-Well, friends visit after school, sometimes to work on homework…

Ok: No, I’m going with Ophelia. We were totally shacking up. I mean, look at us. Look how irritated I am with her. That is love.

Ca: Girls, I hate to burst your bubble, but nobody was actually dating anyone back then.

Op: Oh, come on! Look at us!

Ok: Yeah, I mean the only other explanation is…

=silence=

Op: Is what? What are you…Oh, my God.

G: What’s wrong?

=Ophelia and Oktavia both start to look very uncomfortable=

Op: Candy, tell us the honest truth here: are we sisters?

Ca: What?!

Ch: Oh my God, I’m not hearing this.

Op: If you hid it so we wouldn’t freak out, I understand, but we really need to know-

Ca: No! No, you are not sisters, and you did not live together in our timeline! You knew each other for little over a month when we died, and only really got along for about two weeks!

Op: Oh, thank the flames.

Ok: Whew.

Ca: Seriously, what’s wrong with you? I already told you your stories.

G: Yeah, and Hitomi’s known Oktavia and me for a very long time! I think she’d mention it if you two were related.

H: Plus you look nothing alike. At all.

Ok: Okay! Okay! It was a momentary slip of stupid! We panicked! Leave us alone.

H: Would you two have stopped dating if it turned out you were related?

=Ophelia and Oktavia exchange looks=

Op: Probably not.

Ok: Nope.

Ch: Great. Now that we’ve established yet again how degenerate you two are, can we please continue the movie?

…

G: Huh?

Ok: What’s her deal?

Ca: I…kind of remember her? She was a teacher, and I think I had her my first year. But it’s been so long that-

Op: This lady’s bugging.

Ch: Too many shots in her coffee.

Op: I don’t think that’s alcohol.

Ok: Look at the class. Look at us! We’re all as confused as…we are…huh.

Ch: Don’t think about it too hard.

Op: Okay, seriously! Who allowed this lady around children?

Ca: I can remember her being a little eccentric, but this is on a whole new level.

Ch: Well, as the first few minutes proved, this whole city’s totally drugged out of its mind.

G: Does she want the world to end?

Ok: You know, I’m kind of feeling her.

G: Eh?!

Ok: Okay, look! Way back in the day, before I had a reliable gig, I used to sub every now and then for the FIB’s music department, and let me tell you, after a couple days of trying to keep those sand crabs under control, the apocalypse wasn’t sounding too bad!

Ch: How bad does her class have to be for her to go that far off the deep end?

Ok: Well, me and Fee are in the class.

=Ophelia snickers=

G: Oh, I saw Hitomi!

H: Fantastic.

Ok: I thought you two were cool now.

H: Eh…

Ch: Hey, kids! It’s time to play, “Spot the important characters!”

Ca: Did our hair really stand out that much? I distinctly remember other kids having bright hair colors!

Ch: Well, if you have a bunch of characters that you’re only animating for one scene, then you gotta skimp on some of the details.

…

G: Oh, there you are, Lilly!

Ca: Okay, this part I remember as being fairly accurate.

H: Huh?

Ca: I mean the bit about you being a transfer student and having been in the hospital for a while.

H: Ah.

=pause=

H: My God, I look stupid.

G: Don’t say that! You look cute!

H: Did I really wear my hair like that?

Ca: Well, no. You wore it straight. And I don’t remember there being glasses.

…

Ca: This part…is different though.

G: Really? How so?

Ca: I didn’t know Homulilly before she showed up.

Op: Yeah, you talked about that before. She just sort of appeared out of nowhere one day?

Ca: Yes. And pretty much just…aggressively inserted herself into our group. I mean, she wasn’t rude about it, but…

H: I was a time-traveler trying to save the only person that had ever cared about me from a terrible fate and had already failed several times. No doubt I wanted to skip the pleasantries.

Ca: I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything negative.

H: No offense taken.

Ok: So basically, you had reloaded your save over and over and was skipping the cutscenes so you could get to work on the part you were having trouble on.

H: That is…a remarkably accurate way of putting it. At least I assume that was the reason. I don’t know anything other than I was told, and to be quite frank, I’m glad of it.

Op: Hear fuckin’ hear.

Ok: Cheers. Oh, uh, sorry, Candy.

Ca: Don’t worry about it.

…

Ok: Well, Candy’s really talking you up. Guess you were kind of an ass-kicker, Homulilly.

H: No, it’s like the other version of me said. I was probably in a support role.

Ch: What, with the time-stop thing?

H: Yes.

Ok: Support role, my scaly ass! That is like the most OP power ever! I mean, what could I do?

=pause=

Ok: Uh, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. Candy, what could I do?

Ca: Oh, uh. In addition to your sword, you could use boost pads to jump and heal very quickly.

Op: So a tank, basically.

Ok: See? Just take and give damage! Basic as hell! Now time-stop, that’s a power with some class!

Ch: Plus time-travel.

Ok: Yeah, that’s like the jackpot of unfair.

H: Didn’t do me any good. We all died anyway.

Op: We’re chilling in our expensive, two-story house in a really nice neighborhood watching all this on our expensive big-screen instead of getting our asses beat every night and worrying about homework. I’d say things worked out.

…

Op: GAAAAAAY!

Ca: Oh, come on. It’s just hand-holding.

Op: Look at that blush! Look at it!

H: She has a point. By all accounts I was already pretty infatuated with Gretchen.

=Gretchen blushes=

Ca: Fair enough. GAAAAAAY!

=group cracks up=

Op: Though, seriously. Were any of us straight?

Ca: Well, Oktavia did have that crush on that one boy that supposedly started the whole trouble, and I had a couple of crushes of my own.

Ok: Did you not see me earlier in the movie? I at the very least bisexual!

Op: Or Kyoko-sexual. Everyone’s gay for Kyoko! Even the boys are gay for Kyoko!

G: I don’t really know what that means.

Op: It means the boys find me incredibly attractive, but in a gay sort of way.

G: I still don’t know what that means!

=Oktavia leans over to whisper something in Gretchen’s ear. Gretchen’s eyes go wide=

G: Oooohhhh…

…

Ch: A month? So do the landscape shots just mean a time-skip?

Ok: Okay, we were joking just now, but this is pretty explicitly romantic.

H: As I said, it was at least on my end. Though I don’t understand why he has to be there.

Ca: He was always around, unfortunately. I’m mainly wondering why he’s being so quiet. Or catlike.

H: Why, was he talkative?

Ca: Very.

Op: Huh. Maybe that’s why we got Cheese. We were just used to the animal companion that wouldn’t shut the hell-

=Cheese starts screeching from the other room=

C: Pickinilly! Pickidelly! Picadely whore!

Ch: Great, now you’ve set him off.

=Cheese flies into the room and lands on Homulilly’s flower. She tries not to laugh as he prances about before spying the movie playing=

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Op: Where’d he learn that? I didn’t teach him that.

C: Rat bastard! Rat bastard!

Ch: Oh, for the love of…Here, I’ll take him.

=Charlotte offers Cheese her arm, and takes him outside=

Op: I’ll say this: the bird might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he is smart.

Ok: …did anyone else see the freaking dirigibles flying around in the background, or just me?

….

Op: Shit, those are a lot of airships. Hey, Candy-

Ca: No, those are new also.

Op: Something’s seriously off about this timeline, then.

Ch: Who the hell is that?

G: Oh! It’s Hitomi!

H: Of course it is.

Ch: Huh. Guess she does get more than a cameo.

Op: Jesus Christ, does her entire family all sleep in the same bed? You could fit an entire studio apartment into that thing!

G: Well, we were apparently all pretty well off.

Op: You had a normal-sized twin with a bunch of stuffed animals. She’s captaining the HMS Spoiled Rotten in there.

G: She’s not spoiled!

Op: Look, there are like three queen-sized beds between the six of us. You could put them all together and they still wouldn’t be as big as that monstrosity!

Ch: Isn’t she like living with three other girls now?

G: So? That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have roommates.

H: They’re dating.

G: What? What are you talking about? That’s silly to just assume-

Ok: Gretch. C’mon. It’s not a secret.

G: B-But-

Ok: Poly relationships happen all the time.

G: I…how did you find out?

Ok: You do know that I talk to her too, right? And honestly, you’re making more of it than she is.

G: I guess so.

Op: She should’ve brought that bigass bed with her, then. Gotten some use out of it.

…

H: Who’s she calling?

Ok: Oh boy.

Op: Well, well, well! Violin-boy!

Ok: Fantastic. Hey! I sold my soul for you! Hope it was worth it!

Ch: Er, you okay?

Ok: Yeah, I’m fine. I am pretty curious though.

Op: Oh! Stood the fuck up!

Ch: Wow, he just shot his own rich girlfriend down to play with his stringy stick!

Ok: Violins are way more than just stringy sticks! But yeah, he did shoot her right down, didn’t he? Starting to think I dodged a bullet.

H: You literally died.

Ok: I know what I said.

Op: I guess Hitomi dodged the same bullet. Traded in one deadbeat for three smokin’ hot girlfriends. Can’t see how that’s not a win!

G: Uh, her family? Whom she still remembers?

Op: Er…yeah. That’s a good point.

…

Op: Oh, she mad.

Ca: Teenage relationships are just like that sometimes. You feel all these big emotions and-Huh.

Ch: And you throw up yarn all over your room? What’s going on here?

Ok: We’re back on that weird shit again, aren’t we?

Op: Does she not notice any of this?

Ok: She just got shot down by her own boyfriend. Cut her some slack.

Op: Did the bed just…Okay, it ate her. It ate her and threw up even more yarn.

Ca: This is all getting very…witch-like.

G: I thought only Puella Magi could become witches.

Ca: So did I. But clearly my knowledge is very obsolete.

Op: Goddamn, Homulilly! You butterfly-effected the universe something crazy!

H: How is this my fault?

Ch: Oh, there’s another freaky teddy-bear. At least we know how they’re made.

Ok: Teenaged angst?

Ch: Most terrifying force known to mankind.

#WN Rebellion MST

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docheros · 4 years ago

Text

i told you i would write it

this is 1k or something of words and it’s the longest fic i ever posted in english- so yeah. hope you like it :]

This is the first time Henrik — now a human — met Jackie, or basically a The Little Mermaid AU. Comments are appreciated

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

Sitting on the soft sand, Henrik massaged his head and tried to focus on his surroundings, which was… quite difficult. Was the human world so blurry like the sea? He could only see his hands and… legs?

Legs! He raised them with a big smile appearing in his mouth and wiggled his… What was the name? fingers? Oh! What a funny sensation! He was so happy!

— Ooh, look what the catfish fished! — a voice above him said, Wilford landed on his new knee — Look at it, look at you! There’s something different about you… — Schneep nodded — don’t tell me! I know it! It’s your hairstyle, right?

He denied, still smiling. The seagull scratched his head with his wing, confused.

— No? No, it’s not, let me see… Hmmm… New shell necklace? — Henrik rolled his eyes, denying it again and swinging his legs — uuh no, not a new shell necklace… I I confess it’s a bit difficult, but if I stay here a bit longer maybe I-

— It’s legs! He has legs now, your idiot! — Google jumped on his rock, drawing Wilford’s attention — He gave his voice to the sea witch and gained legs, didn’t you notice?

— Oh! Ah, I knew it! — Wil flew to the crab’s side, crossing his wings.

— Hen was transformed into a human, to make the prince fall in love with him! — Chase said with fear in his voice, watching Henrik try to get up — and he will kiss him!

— And he only has one week! — Google remembered, not noticing Henrik falling back into the water until all of them were wet. He turned to the sea prince — look at him! With… with legs! Human legs! I’m devastated, this is a catastrophe! What will his father say? I know what he will say, — he pointed to Chase, squishing his face next to his in a dramatic move — He’ll for sure say that he’ll need to kill a siri, that’s what he’ll say! I’m coming back home — the crab walked, sinking in the water — and I’ll tell him like I had to do it sooner!

Henrik, standing again, catched him and quickly moved his head, begging Google to stay with him.

— And don’t move your head to me, young man, maybe we still have some time… If at least that witch gave your voice back, you could come back home with all the normal fish, and you would be!... — the merman’s expression saddened with every word — ...and you would be… and you would be sad for the rest of your life — he sighed — ok, ok, I’ll help you find the prince.

Schneep brightened again, kissing Google’s cheek and putting him on the rock again.

— Oh, what a soft shell I’ll end up being… — He murmured to himself

— Henrik, listen here, — the seagull called him, landing on a rock near some torn fabrics — if you want to be human, the first thing to do is dress like one!

While the new human was improvising some clothes, across the beach prince Jackie was walking his dog Flash, in the hopes of finding the mysterious person again. However, that wasn't the first time he was doing this, actually he had been searching for this person for at least two months, and all of Anti's speech about “not being princely to search someone you don't even know the face'' was starting to make his head.

Maybe he would never find them…

He was so distracted that he didn't notice the dog's behavior. He smelled something that drew his attention and started barking happily and jumping in front of his owner.

— Huh? What is the — before the prince could finish his sentence, Flash ran to the other side of the beach — Flash?! Flash!

Henrik and his friends heard something when he was trying new looks, when they turned to see, Flash was rapidly coming in their direction. Chase jumped into the water, Wilford flew away and Henrik ran with Google on his hands, climbing on a medium rock and watching the big dog barking at them. That first experience with the human world didn’t go well.

A voice called Flash’s name in the distance, and then he appeared. Henrik raised his eyebrows and his cheeks turned pink, he couldn’t believe prince Jackie himself was so close to him.

Poor merman, just learned how to breathe and was already losing air…

— Flash! Stay still Flash, what’s up to you? — He laughed, looking at where the dog was barking, meeting Henrik — oh, I see…

He approached the man, in a state of shock, and crouched next to Flash, hugging him.

— Are you ok? I’m sorry if this silly scared you, he’s inofensive… — he looked up and noticed how close they were, blushing a bit with the blond’s smile — you… You look familiar to me… Have we seen each other? — he nodded and Jackie’s smile got bigger — we have seen each other! I knew it! It’s you, whom I’ve been looking for! — the prince held their hands — What is your name?

Henrik was about to say his name, when he remembered he didn’t have a voice anymore. He touched his neck, pressing his lips together.

— What happened? What is it? — Jackie lowered his tone, seeing the other patting his neck — you can’t talk? — he nodded, and Jackie looked down — oh… So you’re not who I thought…

Henrik rolled his eyes, it wouldn’t be an easy task. But then he had an idea, and started mimicking — or at least trying to — everything that happened

— Wha, what? Are you hurt? — He mimicked more and faster, confusing Jackie — no, no… you want help? Woah woah wait! — so much that he mimicked, Henrik fell from the rock and the prince catched him — Be careful! Ehm… — he took a minute to talk, all his attention drawn to the man on his arms. His mouth curved into a loving smile — yeah, you must have suffered something serious. But don’t worry, I’ll help you! Let’s go to the castle

He started to walk, and Henrik turned his face to Wilford and Chase smiling, both giving him thumbs up.

— But hey, I’ll feel bad if I don’t know your name — Jackie said — Let me guess… Jacques? — Henrik denied it, frowning, making the human laugh — ok, ok… Hmm… Shawn? — he denied it again, laughing softly.

— Henrik! — from Henrik’s pocket, Google whispered aloud — say Henrik!

— Huh? Henrik? — Jackie repeated, confused, and saw the man nodding — Ah, Henrik… that’s a pretty name! Well, mine is Jackie, hope you don’t mind that I’m a prince.

i guess i forgot to say Google is Sebastian

this is also on ao3!! @theprinceofflies hope you liked it kdjsskldf thanks for helping me with this au :D

#i'm writing!!#dochero my beloved #dochero #herodoc #ego shipping #henrik von schneeplestein #jackieboy man

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teruthecreator · 4 years ago

Note

Hey... let’s play in the chaos Fitz space... I’m so curious how magic lessons with Festo would go now Fitz is aware of Chaos in relation to his magic...

anon idk what u were expecting when u sent this, but im sure it wasn’t a 1.7k drabble of fitzroy and festo having a lil chit-chat. that being said, though, this was incredibly fun to do so thanks for the suggestion!!!

_______________________________________________________________

“I don’t want magic lessons anymore,”

The question makes the fairy halt in their fluttering, staring at their pupil with a curious stare. Fitzroy hasn’t been the same since the centaur assignment, they knew that already. Word has made its way through the faculty about the barbarian’s outburst on the field; hushed whispers of concern that never seem to make it to either headmaster’s ears. Althea Song even came in to discuss with Festo about the future of Fitzroy’s lessons; what might be the safest approach to controlling his wild magic.

Festo is well aware, though, that “control” and “wild magic” tend to not mesh well.

This is the first time they’ve managed to get Fitzroy to come to a lesson since his return over a week ago. Usually they meet three to four times a week, practicing simple spells and focusing on how to channel the energy for larger ones. He used to be adamant on his distaste for magic, but after a while he began to warm up to the idea of understanding the arcane abilities he was granted. Snippers seemed to help with that warming, becoming less of a familiar and more of an emotional support crab when Fitzroy’s feelings would go haywire and seep into his magic. But, after the centaur assignment, they were advised to postpone a few of their lessons to give Fitzroy the space to recoup after being cursed (and whatever triggered his outburst).

After that grace period, though, Fitzroy just became a no-show. No matter how many cheerfully threatening letters Festo would send, Fitzroy never came to a lesson.

That is, until today, when they came into their class to find Fitzroy already seated in his usual spot; twiddling his thumbs anxiously as he looked down to the floor. Festo was hoping this meant Fitzroy was finally ready to get to work, but...it would seem that’s not the case.

“...Is this why you’ve been hiding from Festo?” The fairy asks, seating themselves atop a stack of books so they can face the half-elf properly. Fitzroy refuses to meet their gaze, nervously scratching his neck as he nods. “Ah...I see…You do not believe in Festo’s teachings.” Fitzroy perks up at that, turning to them and vehemently shaking his head.

“I-It’s not that, Festo, really! It’s just…” Fitzroy trails off, looking frustrated and caught between words. “I just...When I came to you first, Festo, it was because I didn’t know why I had been given my magics and, therefore, was unable to control the outbursts. O-Or, that’s why I felt these lessons were good--I know they’re required, given my schooling track, but--”

“--Festo gets your point.” Festo finishes, not wanting Fitzroy to get lost in the semantics before getting out what needs to be said. He nods his head bashfully and continues.

“Right, yes. B-But now that I...I feel like now--or, I know now why I have magic. When...When I got cursed? I-I, uh...I met someone…”

“You met Chaos, yes?” Festo asks, simply. Fitzroy buffers for a moment, mouth sputtering as he attempts to grapple with the knowledge, and Festo snickers. “Fitzroy, did you think Festo did not understand where your powers came from upon first meeting you?” Fitzroy’s cheeks are tinged red as he opens and closes his mouth to try and retort. “Festo knew your magic was wild from before Festo even saw you! There are not many schools of magic that manifest in catfish transformation.”

“I...suppose so. B-But Festo, if you knew where my magic came from this whole time, why did you never tell me anything?”

“Because you never asked!” Festo answers cheerfully. Their response makes Fitzroy’s shoulders sag as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Also, it would not have been wise of Festo to give you such an answer when you were first learning your magic. Knowledge is not always key to understanding.”

“I’d say it is!” Fitzroy bites back, his hand dropping from his face. “These powers were imparted on me to do evil, Festo! A deity has been watching over my every move, cheering me on whenever I goofed up severely and got people hurt!” The air begins to crackle with static electricity as Fitzroy gets riled up, anxiously running both hands through his hair and lodging them there.

“I ripped a man’s hand off, Festo! That’s fucked!! I struck fear into innocent bystanders! A-And the worst part of it is th-that...I didn’t feel bad for doing it! The hand part, at least--I felt awful once I noticed how everyone was...was looking at me like some sort of monster. It’s terrible! I can’t sleep because of it, I don’t have an appetite anymore because anything I look at just becomes a hand or a shitty magic apple, a-and I can’t...I won’t do magic anymore.” He looks to Festo pleadingly, hoping they see his anguish and understand. “I-I can’t even summon Snippers anymore because I’m paranoid about him being a direct line for Chaos to watch me mess up! I-I don’t--I don’t want my magic anymore, Festo.”

Festo sits there, watching as Fitzroy huffs and puffs on the verge of a meltdown. Then, after Fitzroy seems to have regained a little bit of his compuse, they get up and fly over to him, grabbing his right hand with both of theirs and flipping it over so it’s palm-side up.

“Make a flame for Festo,” they command, not even bothering to look up and see the utter confusion and hurt on their student’s face. “Just do it, it will be fine. Have faith in Festo.” Fitzroy sighs, deep and long, before shutting his eyes and concentrating. In a few short moments, a small blue flame appears in his hand. Festo makes an affirmative noise as they study the flame. “How did that feel for you to do?”

“Um...Fine? I guess?” Fitzroy replies, sounding unsure.

“It did not hurt?”

“No…”

“Did not feel forced out of you?”

“No.”

“You feel confident that it was by your will that this flame came to your hand?”

“Y-Yes, Festo, what does that--”

“Then you are fine!” Festo states matter-of-factly. They push Fitzroy’s palm closed, thus extinguishing the flame. “You should not feel worried about Chaos’s influence!” They look up in time to see Fitzroy’s eyebrows furrowing. “You said yourself that the magic felt natural to you--it was not forced out of your hand or influenced by a force that was not your own brain, yes?”

“R-Right…” Fitzroy responds. Festo flies up to his face and pokes their forehead with maybe a bit too much force than necessary. “Ow! What the heck, Festo!?”

“Your magic may have been bestowed upon you by a being of influence, but it is you who controls how that manifests.” Festo explains, suddenly sounding wiser than normal. “Chaos can only influence your magic if you let them; other than that, they cannot control how you choose to use the gift they gave you. From Festo’s experience, they actually hate doing that, so you should not worry about being ‘controlled’!” Fitzroy’s eyes widen and he guffaws for a moment.

“W-Wait, Festo, you’ve had experiences with Chaos?” Festo twirls around in a circle and giggles mischievously.

“Not in that way, silly! Fairies are creatures of unpredictability; Chaos is one of our patron deities! Festo has had quite a few communes with them in Festo’s lifetime!” Fitzroy’s face scrunches up in disgust at the implication of their first sentence, making Festo laugh again. “You were the one who said ‘experiences’, not Festo!”

“Right, but I was not implying you had sexual experiences with a deity, Festo. I really don’t want to be thinking about...really anything like that ever, thank you very much.”

“You brought up sexual! Not Festo!”

“Ahhh! I am covering my ears until this conversation ends!” Fitzroy screams as he slaps his hands over his ears. Festo rolls their eyes and kicks Fitzroy in the nose. “OW! Are you even allowed to hit a student?!”

“Festo has tenure, remember?” Festo chides, letting out a snarky “teehee” before flying a little further back so Fitzroy can look at them properly. “Now, do you still want to stop your lessons? Festo won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Fitzroy stares for a long moment, brows furrowing once more as he thinks. He doesn’t think for too long before squaring his shoulders and sitting a little more confidently in his chair.

“Y’know what, Festo? I think...I think I’m going to keep at this magic thing! Show that Chaos who’s boss!” Fitzroy announces, his usual bravado back. Festo claps their hands as a shower of sparkles rains around them.

“Hooray! Festo is proud of you for conquering your fears!” Festo cheers, making Fitzroy flush a little with the praise. “Now, to make up for your missed lessons, Festo wants you to come here every day for the next two weeks after your classes! This is non-negotiable!” At this, Fitzroy deflates, just as Festo expected.

“Alright, I suppose I...deserve that for ghosting you for so long…” Fitzroy groans.

“Correct!” Festo chirps, causing Fitzroy to roll his eyes. “Now, to pick up where we left off, show Festo how you’re doing with Mage Hand…”

---

It’s later that night, when the school has settled and all the students have gone to bed, that Festo returns to their office. They pull a set of small candles from one of the drawers in their desk and lay them out in a pattern on the desk’s surface. With a flick of their wrists, the candles are lit in an iridescent flame, and they close their eyes to pray.

Coming to, they find themselves in a familiar woodland clearing, looking unimpressed at the figure seated across from them. The figure, on the other hand, looks positively delighted to see them.

“Festo does not want you meddling with Fitzroy anymore,” Festo says, their voice uncharacteristically serious. Chaos smiles and shakes their head.

You, of all the beings in my court, should know I cannot do that. They reply. I have a special mission in mind for him, and I do intend on seeing it through to the end~

Then, the wind blows, and Festo wakes up back in their office in a circle of smoking candles. With a sigh, they put the extinguished candles away and leave.

Futile as it seems, Festo is determined to give Fitzroy control over his powers, Chaos be damned.

#taz graduation #taz grad spoilers #(kinda)#taz fitzroy #taz festo #taz chaos #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #sir fitzroy maplecourt #festo #chaos #ignorance cloud on #this was really fun to do anon!!! thanks!!#i forgot how fun doing requests were yall should send in some if the spirit moves u

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apothecarinomicon · 3 years ago

Text

Spring week 4 part 3

After my hectic experience with the marshbloom, I decided to take a day for myself. Greenmoor isn’t anywhere near the ocean, but Meltwater Loch is big enough that I figured a day spent there could be considered a beach day. And after the couple of weeks I’d had, boy did I need a beach day.

But anyone who’s read this far ought to be familiar with my luck by now. There’s a lot to record, but I’ll try to get it down in order.

────⊱⁜⊰────

It was a beautiful day—clear blue sky, warm air, and (at least when I first arrived) no one around at Meltwater Loch. I spread out a towel on the beach and laid down for a good session of sunbathing. I’ve never been one for tanning, but simply laying doing nothing while being warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze felt absolutely decadent.

After a while of simply existing, I became aware of the sound of a bird calling above me. I cracked my eyes open and recognized the large forms of a pair of gull-drakes flying overhead. Gull-drakes are a strange hybrid, both reptilian and avian. Their torsos and wings are feathered, while their heads, tails, and talons are scaled. They do have beaks like gulls, but their tails are prehensile like their alleged draconic ancestors’. I say ‘alleged’ because no one knows how the hybrid gull-drake came into being. The sheer anatomy and scale discrepancy between the average seagull and the average dragon fossil (they were much larger in ancient times than the pocket-sized lizards we have today) seems to rule out any cross-breeding. Additionally, the typical combination of traits displayed by gull-drakes is too awkward and ungainly to be the result of natural selection. And yet, there have been records of the gull-drake’s existence for just about as long as there have been records—the third-oldest surviving written document, in fact, is a bestiary which includes them along dozens of other species, most of which are now extinct.

Nature is a strange thing.

Digressions aside, there was a reason this caught my attention. Gull-drakes are scavengers, and have been known to leave catches uneaten while they go out to hunt for more. It’s just an evolutionary quirk—they prefer to feast only once per day. This means that, as they leave their nests unattended, some other opportunistic creature could come by and steal their catch.

It’s easy to identify a gull-drake nest, too—they tend to be very large, and are often positioned balanced atop large, pointy rocks. If a gull-drake catches you stealing, though, it’ll chase you and squawk at you and try to peck you until you drop the stolen goods and flee. They’re not too smart, though, so hiding in nearby foliage (say, a patch of large ferns) will fool them easily.

All of this to say, I managed to get myself a shock fish without a rod, all while only getting chased a little ways by a jealous, stupid bird.

────⊱⁜⊰────

As I returned to my towel, I heard an unusual sound—the put-put-put of a motor. Machinery of that kind is a fairly new invention, and unless you know how to make it, very expensive.

The woman driving the boat certainly looked like she knew how to make a motor. She was dwarven, with russet hair and a long beard, both held in thick braids. She was (as dwarves are) rather short—I'd estimate maybe one-and-a-fifth meters tall, and nearly as wide—with large hands and feet, and limbs thickly corded with muscle. She wore dark green coveralls and had a fairly heavy-duty fishing rod held in one hand so that it rested on her shoulder.

She shut the motor off as she neared and called out to me, asking if I was the village witch. I said that I was, and she told me that she was friends with my crocodilian patient. She thanked me for helping him, and said he would have been a goner without my potion-making skills. I demurred just a bit, saying I wasn't the only healer who helped him that day. She scoffed and dismissed my humility outright, saying that I might as well have been the only one—that without my care the village doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She introduced herself as Janneth Hillhorn, and I told her my name in turn. She asked what I was doing out by Meltwater Loch and I told her I was taking a day off. She let me know that her cottage was just around the other side of the lake, near Glimmerwood Grove and right on the border of Blastfire Bog, and that I should feel free to stop in any time. I thanked her.

At this point, there was a tremor in the water. It couldn't have been an earthquake because the land wasn't shaking, but the water abruptly became much more active. Ocean-like waves crashed into the shore and Janneth held tight onto the sides of her boat, doing her best not to capsize. I would have been quite alarmed in her situation, but Janneth barely seemed preturbed. I asked something along the lines of "what the blight is going on?!" As the water settled, Janneth told me that this was a common occurence on Meltwater Loch, a quirk that—many said—was due to the emotions of its guardian sea-dragon, Bàs Bàta. I found this explanation rather silly, reminiscent of an old wives' tale. I'd never heard of a sea-dragon before, and given that the name ‘Bàs Bàta’ directly translated to "boat death," I figured it was just a local story told to frighten children and dismissed it out of hand.

Astute readers should be growing worried for me right about now.

Janneth offered to give me one of the fish she'd caught as a thanks for helping her friend. I initially refused, but she insisted. She looked through her basket and pulled out a dentist crab. The gel their claws produce is good for the mouth and plenty else besides, so I accepted and thanked her. She thanked me right back and said (perhaps jokingly?) not to run afoul of Bàs Bàta while I was out by the loch. I forced a laugh as she sped away.

Once she was out of sight, I collected some claw gel from the dentist crab and released it back into the water.

────⊱⁜⊰────

There was another rumbling as I made my way back to the beach, and as it abated I saw something bob up to the surface of the water close to the shore. It presented itself, et cetera et cetera, I waded in to see what it was.

I scooped it out of the water and found myself holding a glass bottle, like the kind that rum or sweet wine would come in, sealed with a cork and containing a rolled-up sheet of paper. Of course, I opened it immediately. I found that the sheet inside wasn’t quite *paper,* but something more slippery—maybe made of seaweed? It did have writing on it, though. As I unfurled it, a few things that looked like pebbles fell out. I barely managed to catch them before they hit the surface of the water. I put them in my pocket for safe keeping.

The writing on the note was as follows, with no spelling changes by me:

Let it be known that I fink this whole exercise is stupid. And pointless. And probly meant as some kind of sick, twisted punishment. No one but little kids believe in terrafolk, so I don’t know why the instructress is making us do this.

Even if anyfing could live above the water, there’s no way its advanced enough to read. How would it get all the minerals it needs wivout processing the water?

But anyway. I guess I ave to fulfill the prompt.

Me name is Genoveva, I live in the I.S.A.C.S. (that's short for 'Isolated Sovereign Aquatic City-State, but we all just pronounce it like 'Isax") and I’m in the fifth year of me education. I hate me name. I wish I could ave somefing exotic like a John or a Steve or a Sarah, but I’m stuck wiv boring old Genoveva. If you’re somehow able to read this, that must mean you ave schools on the surface, too. Wat ar they like? Ar they as boring up there? We all ave to sit in a circle and listen to the instructress drone on and on and on.

I live wiv me merma and me perpa and me two baby brothers. Do you ave family? I've got loads of cousins too.

On the rubric it says I ave to include a small gift, so I'm putting some fossil fish scales in wiv this letter. I found em on me way to school this morning and there not of use to me, but I figure you probly don't ave fish on land so maybe scales ar valuable up there.

If you're inclined to write back (no pressure), you can just pop your note in the bottle and put it back into the water. It'll find its way to me—there's magic all around, don't you know.

Signed,

Genoveva Galbrait, 5th year

[An accessible version of this letter can be found here.]

The letter obviously has some pretty complex implications. An entire society under the surface of Meltwater Loch, entirely unaware of the world above the surface beyond fairy stories? What must life be like down there? What kind of society must they have? How do they supply food? Get rid of waste?

What resources might be available there that can't be found on the surface?

I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to visit ISACS, and learn everything I could about it. I bet that would impress the University of Arcbridge. I wasn't sure how I would breathe under the water for long enough, but I was determined to find a way.

Take your final guesses now what happened next.

That water-quaking started up again, this time stronger than before. Waves crashed against the beach where I stood, and I felt a great vibration in my chest and in my head.

And then, it broke the surface of the water.

Giant and blue-green and serpentine, Bàs Bàta rose up before me. A blighting sea-dragon, it stood straight up in the air at least twice as tall as my cottage—and that was just the part of its body I could see. Its head was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with three great spikes sprouting out of the back (the outer two longer than the middle one). It let loose another deep roar, dousing me in spittle. It thrashed about, causing great waves to crash onto the shore, and through my shock I realized its movements might be less characteristic of anger than of pain.

My suspicions were confirmed when it roared again: one of the fangs right near the front of its mouth was missing a chip, and had a great crack running nearly all the way up to the root. That had to hurt. I'd never treated a non-humanoid before—or, for that matter, a cracked tooth—but I realized even past the moral obligation to help, there was no way I could access the underwater city-state without calming Bàs Bàta down.

I found out later, after I'd scrambled away from the lake and sprinted back to the cottage, after wiping the saliva off of me and getting at least some of it in a bottle for potion use, that the saliva was actually a really useful ingredient in treating shattered teeth. As it turns out, it's a pretty strong painkiller. Unfortunately, I knew I'd need more than just that to make a cure, and with the sheer size of Bàs Bàta, I suspected I'd need to make more than one potion.

That will have to be a longer term project, then, because the events of my relaxation day have worn me out. I've got to get to bed. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

⇦●〇●⇨

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generallybarzy · 5 years ago

Text

smile like sunshine

Introduction: ~7,600 words

mat barzal series

summary: A lot changes in ten years, and a lot changes when someone grows used to having constant attention, fans, and fame- so surely the boy you knew back then was long gone. Even if you had been the closest of friends that one month back in 2008, there was no way he remembers you, or even wants to talk to you anymore...

an: Here it finally is!!! I know, I know, it's super long. I was gonna split it up, but it made more sense to keep the intro in one part for the backstory and setting up the main plot and then have the rest of the story on the beach. I really hope this comes together like I want it to!

From the moment you first saw him, you knew you were going to be best friends; but what you could never know, at only nine years old, was that you were going to fall head over heels in love with him one day.

Looking back now, he was adorable as a child, but that wasn’t what your little nine-year-old mind was thinking at the time. All you were focused on back then was the sheer awesomeness of that sandcastle he was building and the overwhelming amount of loneliness that was overtaking you on what was supposed to be a fun, month-long family vacation. He was just a boy, caked in sand from crawling around on his hands and knees to construct what you thought back then was the most complex structure of architecture in existence, and you were just a girl, your desperation for a friend to play with outweighing your shyness. Your parents seemed too busy with the new babies to pay attention to you, so you had to find someone else to hang out with, and here was this boy. You had approached him hesitantly, just really wanting something to do and someone to play with other than your annoying siblings, hoping that he wouldn’t turn you away.

“Did you make that?” Your first words to him were spoken shyly, hesitant, and had him looking up at you, squinting from the sun through his dark locks of hair.

“Yeah.”

“All by yourself?” He nodded again, looking proud. “It’s awesome!”

“Thanks!” He glanced back to his work for a second before pushing himself to his feet and offering you a sand bucket. “You wanna help?”

“Yes, please.”

“Cool.” He smiled brightly, showing off a missing tooth, and you smiled back, it was impossible not to with how full of sunshine this boy seemed to be. You followed him out towards the water to scoop up some wet sand. “I’m Mat.”

“I’m (Y/N).”

It was really that simple to become friends. You soon came to find that Mat was really funny, one of the funniest people you’d ever met- and still to this day you couldn’t forget how green his eyes sparkled in the sunlight while he was laughing, even if he was just laughing at his own silly jokes. The two of you slaved away at building your sandcastle in the hot sun and laughing at each other’s jokes for what seemed like hours before your parents came over to find you playing with a new friend. Your parents and his talked- about nothing you cared about at that age- while you and Mat sat with your feet in the water, eating ice pops and getting sunburned without a care in the world.

You still thought back to that month to this day. It was still one of your happiest memories: those hot watermelon and ice pop summer days giving you sticky faces and hands and sunburnt skin, eating ice cream on your tenth birthday and skipping along the pier next to him with your moms chatting behind you, collecting shells and messing with crabs together, being splashed with seawater and laughing even though you wanted to be mad at him. That was your happy place.

One conversation you remember distinctly from later that month was when you and Mat were sitting on the beach, sifting through the sand and collecting shells. Well, you were the only one actually collecting shells; Mat thought it would be funny to sit there and throw little crustaceans at you and make you shriek. Eventually, a hush had fallen over the two of you, and Mat spoke up. “I’m gonna be in the NHL one day.”

“The what?” Mat laughed at you, but you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. You laugh at yourself today, looking back.

“Do you know what hockey is?”

“Duh. My dad watches it.”

“I like to play hockey. I’m going to as a job one day.”

“That sounds cool!” Your young mind couldn’t even comprehend having any adult job, let alone knowing at this age what you want to do for the rest of your life Obviously, Mat was a boy who had plans. “It looks dangerous, though, do you get hurt?”

“I don’t really get hurt much.”

“I bet you’re good at it, then.”

“I am!” You smiled and laughed with Mat and leaned over your pile of shells to hug him, the deepest form of showing affection you knew at that point.

“I’ll come to see you play one day. I promise.”

Remember when life was so simple that a sandcastle was all that was needed to spark the beginning of a wonderful friendship, even if it only lasted a month? Remember when we didn’t have to worry about grades and work and money and taxes? Sometimes you wished you could take yourself back to that month, so you could have a distraction. You’ve been looking for a distraction like Mat had been all your life- while your parents fought from the other room, while you stressed over tests in school, during heartbreak after heartbreak, while you dealt with pressure taking standardized tests or getting your first job, or moving to New York City alone only weeks shy of your 20th birthday during the summer before you started college. Every now and then you would forget about that summer, but the moment you’d stress over something, your mind just drifted off and daydreamed of that lighthearted smile, and those shining green eyes, and you hoped he was happy wherever he was.

Mat.

Damn it, you would have tried years ago to google him or something if you knew his last name, or even where he lived. Unfortunately, those aren’t topics of interest to children, so they never popped up in your conversation, and neither your mom or dad seemed to care enough to remember what they talked about with his parents, probably too busy fighting all the time, you mused.

The fall after you’d moved to New York for college, your roommate Amy, who was extremely welcoming and always made you feel at home, decided to introduce you to the sports teams of the city in an effort to get you out of your apartment and away from your work. It was just your luck, you realized later, that she was especially into hockey. You were vaguely familiar with hockey, your dad used to be a huge hockey fan in your youth, but stopped many years ago in the midst of your parent’s marriage practically falling apart. Now he only watched it occasionally, a few years behind on who was up-and-coming. “Hey, might as well learn the sport. Maybe one day you’ll reconnect with that boy from your long-ago summer romance!” She spoke teasingly, lightheartedly, always loving to hear the sweet story of your childhood best friend who had slipped away and may have disappeared forever. She was always one for cliches. You had told her many things about your time with Mat, but never used his name; no, that felt too personal, as if he was a secret for only you to know about.

“Oh, come on, Ames!” You laughed, but you couldn’t help but hope. “We were, like, ten! I don’t think that qualifies as romance.”

“Maybe not, but the way you describe him… If you would’ve met in your teens, that story would have ended with some cute, awkward first kisses.” She loved a good love story, and you smiled and shook your head. Yeah, honestly, you wish you’d known him later in your life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

So, eventually, she took you to an Islanders game, letting you borrow a blue hoodie of hers from her large collection of NHL merchandise so that you would look like more of a fan. You sat through the game with her, excited and interested and eager to learn as she kept pointing things out to you to help you understand the game. Despite it being an NHL game, you hadn’t thought of the boy that sparked your interest in the sport all night, until, about halfway through the game, you saw a name mentioned overhead.

Mathew Barzal.

You knew it was nothing. Literally nothing. There are plenty of other people named Mathew, idiot. But you couldn’t help the soft spark of memories in you. You pushed it out of your mind and went back to the game, even though something, just something was nagging away in your head. When you looked up to the screen above the ice, you caught a glance of the name again. Mathew, spelled with one ‘T’. A vivid memory pops to your head- you and Mat tracing your names and other words into the sand with sticks, just for fun, because that’s what entertains a ten-year-old apparently.

“I’m gonna be in the NHL one day.”

Mathew. One ‘T’. NHL. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, plenty of people probably spelled it that way, and you were probably grasping at straws, but hey what were the odds? A hockey player, Mathew. If only you could get a good look at the guy. Or… or something. You probably wouldn’t even recognize someone after ten years of not seeing them; you could hardly recognize ten-year-old you in photos! In your head, Mat was still eleven years old. Honestly, was there even a way to figure out if it was him or not? Ask him if he happened to meet a girl on a family vacation a decade ago? Yeah, and when would you get the chance to ask a professional athlete such personal questions?

...Well, tonight, apparently.

As you left your seats after the game, everyone happy and celebratory after a win, you almost had a heart attack when Amy grabbed your arm and shrieked. “Oh my God, oh my God, (Y/N)!” She pointed to her phone in shock, and you still couldn’t tell what she was reacting to, but calmed down, realizing it probably wasn’t life-threatening.

“Holy shit, Ames, are you trying to kill me?”

“Listen, listen.” She calmed down a bit, letting out a small laugh. “So let's just say someone I know, knows somebody,” You laughed a bit, knowing this was gonna be some new interesting gossip. “And they know where the players are going out to celebrate tonight.” She sent you a suggestive, winking look.

“No way. You want to go and… interact with them? Professional athletes? Us, talking to professional athletes?”

“I mean, yeah. Are you telling me you don’t want to flirt with a hockey player?” She saw the look on your face and shook her head. “Or! Or not even flirt. Just talk. Get a picture with them, or a signature? Or just let me talk and you can wave to them. I can promise you they’re all pretty nice to their fans.”

“You sound as if you’ve talked to them all before.”

“No, only one. And it was more of me talking and him saying ‘cool, cool.’ while he signed my jersey. But I always hear that they’re really sweet.”

“Well,” you thought for a moment. It would be pretty freaking cool to try and befriend a professional athlete, or even just pretend for a night that you knew them. You definitely don’t go out enough, you hadn’t really been to many bars- you had only turned 20 a few months ago and couldn’t drink yet, so what was the point? In fact, you’d barely left your tiny apartment since moving, and even though you weren’t one for bars or clubs, you were in New York City, for fuck’s sake! Might as well go out and live, right? “Alright, let’s go. But if we actually see them, you have to be my wing-woman.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

The bar you were going to wasn’t far from the rink, and according to a google search of the place, it didn’t seem too sleazy or gross- that was good. Of course it’s not sleazy, why would someone as rich as a bunch of professional athletes go to a sleazy bar? Because it was only a little further than where you had parked, the two of you walked together. As it settled in your head that you might actually see professional hockey players tonight, you started feeling a little nervous. Partially because you’ve never been in a place with that many famous people at once, but also because of the name that was still circling your brain.

“Hey, so I’ve had something on my mind because of this game.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re gonna think I’m completely crazy, but listen.” She looked up with a face, ready for your story.

“Give it to me.”

“Okay, so... this kid I told you about, that I met that summer? His name was Mathew. Spelled with only one ‘T’, I remember that clearly.” You laughed a bit, wondering how crazy you must have sounded to her. “And he told me he was gonna play in the NHL, right?”

After a second, you saw it click in her head. “No fuckin’ way. You think it’s Barzal?”

“Ames, I don’t know, I don’t know! There are plenty of Mathews who play hockey, right? But maybe he doesn’t even play hockey after all. Kids aren’t great at choosing their career paths, ya know? I just never learned his last name. I need his age or... something to identify him with.”

“He’s… like, 21, I think.”

“Yeah?” You paused. Why was this all actually matching up? “Yeah. So ten years ago he would’ve been eleven.”

“Holy shit, hoooolllly shit.”

“But I’m sure there are plenty of Mathews who are 21 right now.”

“Girl, holy shit. Look up a picture of him right now. If you had a summer romance with Barzy, I need to know immediately.”

“Okay, it still wasn’t really a romance, but same.” You pulled out your phone and typed his name into the search bar. “I don’t even know if I’ll recognize him after ten years.” Immediately after you opened the images tab, the first thing you noticed about him was the hair. Dark and thick and kind of wavy and looking extra soft in a few pictures, it did remind you of your Mat- whose hair had been full of sand and salt water and kept drying softly as he ran around in the sunlight- but you still couldn’t be 100% positive. It was after you scrolled past all the on ice pictures where you couldn’t really see his face well behind the helmet and found a picture of him- unstaged and off the ice and genuinely smiling- that you felt a strange spark ignite inside of you. Sunshine. His smile felt like sunshine. Maybe. Just, maybe.

Scrolling through other photos, your eyes caught one in particular. You opened a close up of his face and zoomed in a tiny bit more. Those eyes, shining all pretty and green in the sunlight. You could never forget them- not after ten years, and not after a hundred. His eyes, his chin, even the size of his goddamn nostrils, all the tiny, stupid details in his face… was this actually him? “Biiiitch....” Amy leaned closer to you and bumped shoulders with you in acknowledgment.

“What? Do you recognize something?”

“Kinda, yeah. It’s so weird.”

“So you think it’s seriously him?”

“I don’t know. But the last picture of his smile, I’d recognize that smile anywhere and… this. His eyes- that eye color…. I remember thinking it’s so pretty… even his fucking nostrils, Amy!” The fact that you took note of his nostrils might have been funny at another time, but you were currently having a crisis as to whether or not you were once friends with fucking Mathew Barzal.

“Yeah, I mean, they’re kinda big…”

“I… I don’t want to say that I think it’s him, that might just be me being too hopeful. But...”

“Holy shit. You might have been Barzy’s friend at one point. You could reconnect with him, and we could hang out with the players!” You shot her a look, and she knew to calm down. “Sorry. Alright, whether or not it was him, I’m still gonna get you to talk with him tonight.” You hadn’t realized that you had basically arrived at the bar, and you felt your heart start pumping you full of nerves as she opened the door. “You have my word.”

The bar wasn't too crazy- there was music playing overhead and that weird hazy bar feeling lingered in the air. Immediately you could see that there was a celebratory group of of tall men, some standing at the bar talking with each other, others talking with girls- some shared wedding bands with the women they were talking to, their wives apparently. So you figured those were the players.

“I can’t believe it.” Amy was still in shock next to you; you were too, but you needed to pull it together. “You and Barzal…”

“Well, we don’t actually know yet.” You pulled her into you by the elbow. “But please please don’t mention that to them, I don’t need them to think I’m crazy before I even talk to them.” She nodded back, but before either of you could comprehend what was happening, somebody- obviously one of the hockey players- seemed to catch her eye as they came into view near the bar. “A player you like?”

“Anthony Beauvillier.” She pronounced his name with an obvious swoon and you laughed. Oh, so this was that favorite player that she kept talking about. “Tito. Yeah. He’s cool.” She nudged you, smirking. “Oh! And he’s besties with Mat! I bet I could get him for you.”

“You? Talking to them?” As much as Amy liked to talk and wanted to meet the players, you knew she wasn’t the type to just go out and throw herself into conversation with somebody, and you knew she easily got tongue-tied- that’s where the two of you were most similar. But maybe it was just the fact that she was trying to help you out that gave her the boost of confidence to begin chasing after him. “Hey, actually, maybe we shouldn’t bother them. I’m sure they’re tired of dealing with fans.”

“We won’t pester them or anything. I’m sure they’ll see we’re not like, crazy crazy fans. Anyway we have a mission.”

“A mission?”

“Operation… I don’t know, Operation Find Mat Barzal for (Y/N).”

“Wow. Creative.”

“I know.” She laughed and smiled at you reassuringly. “Come on, both of us need to learn to be more assertive, don’t you think? We’re not annoying them, just telling them we think they’re cool, and maybe getting a picture. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” There was nothing you could say before she was- to your horror- reaching out and tapping Anthony’s arm. You were sure you looked nervous as he turned to look at the two of you, and your friend started rambling with a big starstruck smile on her face. “Hi, uh yeah. You’re cool.” You weren’t only feeling embarrassed yourself, but also for her. “I’m a big fan!”

To your surprise- or maybe not, he seemed like a sweet guy- he smiled back at her, and you almost melted under kinda his blue eyes as he looked between the two of you. He thanked her as she complimented his performance tonight and motioned to the phone in her hand. “You want a picture?”

“Yes please!” You took her phone for her to snap a couple of pictures of the two of them, glad that this guy seemed so chill and friendly. After the picture was taken, Amy still didn’t let him leave, no, to your absolute horror, she motioned to you. “My friend here, (Y/N), tonight was the first game she’s ever been to.” You could feel your cheeks heat up when he looked over at you, but couldn’t help but smile back up to him. Oh, he was kinda really cute...

“Oh yeah? Hope you enjoyed it.”

Oh. Oh, he was actually talking to you! “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t understand everything that was happening, I’m still learning, but.. it was still really fun!”

“Actually,” you felt Amy’s arm fall across your shoulders, and you looked over at her. God, what was she planning now? “(Y/N) happens to be a big fan of Barzy.”

“Oh God, Ames stop…”

“And I’m sure she’d like a picture with him. So if you could, I don’t know… point her in his direction, please? If he’s here? And if you think he’s got time for it?” You were in the middle of burying your red face in your hands in embarrassment when you heard him laugh goodheartedly.

“He wouldn’t mind. He likes talking to his fans.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure he’ll be especially happy to meet a new fan. He loves the praise.” All three of you laughed a bit, and you couldn’t believe that you were currently chatting with an NHL player. He looked behind his shoulder for a moment, before moving aside and motioning to the bar. “He’s over at the bar somewhere, by himself for the moment. Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” There was a certain lilt in his voice, was… was he teasing you? You smiled- but it probably looked pretty nervous- and glanced over to Ames.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She winked at you and nudged you in the direction of the bar. “Go!”

You bit your lip to hold back the growing smile at the thought of getting to talk to him, whether or not he remembered you at all. You looked up at Tito with a quick “Thank you!” before snaking around him and finding your way to the bar.

It didn’t take you long to notice him- he had a recognizable face, and you’d recognize him anywhere after looking at pictures of him for the whole ten-minute walk from the rink to this bar. He was standing at the bar, drink in his hand, and scrolling through his phone, a lock of dark hair drooping onto his forehead. His skin looked so golden in this light, as if he was back under the sun on a hot summer day- and it gave him a striking resemblance to the boy you knew ten years ago. There was something so different about seeing him in person rather than as a photo on your phone- it sparked up a weird feeling inside of you. If this was really him, it had been ten years since you last saw him, and a lot changes in ten years of somebody’s life. It may have been a strange thought but, wow, puberty really hit him in all the right places. He looked… wow. His cheekbones, his jawline,…. Okay, maybe it was kinda thirsty- ogling him like this- but you couldn’t help it.

Not only had he obviously changed physically, but he might be a completely different person. He was a professional athlete now- why would he need you anymore? That much attention changes a person. He might not be as kind as he was back then at eleven years old, he might not want to be friends with you or reconnect.

That is, if this even is him.

You swallowed down all your nerves and slid up next to where he was standing.

“You really made it to the NHL, huh?” No shit he made it to the NHL, you thought. What the fuck kind of conversation starter is that? It was a painstakingly slow moment as he directed his full attention away from his phone and towards you, and could practically feel the shot of confidence and adrenaline draining from your body when his pretty, confused eyes met yours. Oh, they’re a lot more light brown than they are green, you noticed, and you wondered if maybe all your memories of his “dazzling, gleaming green eyes” were wrong. You realized how strange you must look to him- you were just a random girl, approaching a super successful, let alone attractive, professional athlete at a bar. He probably thought you were trying to get a drink off of him or get into his pants for the clout.

Maybe you were expecting him to look up and immediately recognize you after ten years and sweep you up into a hug like in the movies, but it certainly didn’t seem like that’s what was coming.

“Yeah…?"

He looked confused- his eyebrows furrowed up a bit as he looked you over, sizing you up or checking you out or just trying to figure out why this stranger was approaching him about his career choices. Suddenly, you found it difficult to hold eye contact. Of course he didn’t remember you. Who needs to remember their one-month-long friendship when they’re busy getting into the NHL? This was really starting to make you feel pathetic for holding onto the memory of your super short friendship for so long.

Well, you officially wanted the floor to open up and swallow you. Right now would be great. "Okay… that probably sounded really, really strange if you don't remember me. Or if it’s not even you. Umm, we hung out together in 2000 something…. 2008? The summer of '08?” You laughed awkwardly, trying desperately to lighten the mood. “We were, like ten, eleven?" He still said nothing, just watching you with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes. Oh god, you wanted lightning to strike you dead, NOW. Literally anything would be better than standing here waiting for him to say something, anything! Even if he just says 'Who the fuck are you?' It would be better than silence. The silence was humiliating. "Okay, I’m so sorry. I probably got this all wrong and look like a weirdo." Right as you started to back away to run to find Amy and get the hell out of here, he held out a hand.

“Wait, wait!" His eyebrows shot up as if he couldn’t believe something, his outstretched hand reaching back to run through his hair. "Holy shit. Is it… (Y/N)?" Your heart almost stopped right there, the moment he said your name, either that or it was beating so fucking fast you couldn't feel it. He said your name. Your name. He knows your name.

"Yeah.” You watched his face relax into a gleaming smile. Like sunshine. It’s him. You knew it now. “So I’m not crazy? It's… it’s actually you? Mat?"

"It's actually me." For the first time since you set foot in the bar, you felt yourself relax completely, and although you hadn’t had any alcohol, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Jesus, it was actually him. You crossed your arms on the bar and lay your forehead down on it. "Sorry, I just, it took me a second. I should have recognized you sooner.” You laughed a little bit into your arms at the sheer craziness of the situation. He still had that same warmth to him, the way he was always able to make you feel happy and safe, like when he distracted you on the beach while your parents were yelling inside or when he went too far trying to scare you with crabs and had to hug you and promise you he’d protect you from them.

“I can’t believe this.” You lifted your head to look back up at him, and he had a wide smile spreading across his face. “We actually ended up in the same city ten years later without even knowing each other’s last names.”

“Holy shit. Ten years? I feel old. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday.” Your heart soared at the idea that he still thinks of you- of the fun you two had together that summer. He took a sip from his drink, going quiet and just staring at his glass with a smile.

“You still think about it?”

“Sure, sometimes. I wonder how you’re doing, and where you ended up. I guess you ended up in New York.” He looked back up at you, eyes catching yours and gleaming all honey-hued golden brown and sending butterflies straight to your stomach. You could barely contain yourself, it didn’t matter that this was Mathew fucking Barzal you were talking to because to you he was still just your Mat, and that was even better. The sandy little boy with scraped knees. You couldn’t help but imagine how many people would kill to be in your position right now.

“I guess I just thought you would have forgotten about that summer, considering how successful you are now and stuff.”

He shook his head, smiling softer and reassuringly. “C’mon. I could never forget about that. It was my favorite summer to date.” He extended an arm and dropped it across your shoulder, pulling you in closer- no closer than two friends should be, but much closer than you ever thought you’d be to someone of his "social rank". It wasn’t any closer than you’d been in the past, but you were children back then. Now, you were young adults with hormones. He was a man. You would be crazy not to notice how warm and built he felt under his hoodie from obvious years of playing hockey, and there were dirty thoughts spinning around your head as soon as his large hand dropped to your arm and the dizzying scent of his cologne hit your nose. “You want a drink?”

You blushed and stuttered, shaking away any indecent thoughts. “Uh, I- I can’t. Yet.”

He seemed confused for a moment before laughing. “That’s right! You're a year younger than me, right? Aww, you’re still a baby. Can’t even drink yet.” He ruffled your hair gently, careful not to actually mess it up, and called the bartender over and asked for a glass of water, making sure to let him know that you weren’t old enough to drink yet. You could only laugh, remembering how much he loved to tease you back then. He obviously hasn’t changed in that department. “Ya know, you could’ve just DM'd me or something as soon as you found me. You didn’t need to dramatically approach me in a bar.”

“Well, I did kinda only find you tonight,”

His eyes went wide with a smile. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, like an hour ago. Listen...” You launched into your story as to how you came to realize that your long lost friend was NHL star Mathew Barzal, and how you didn't actually know who he was as a player. He actually listened intently, unlike any of the disappointing boyfriends you’d had in the past. Man, whatever girl he gets is gonna be lucky. “I wasn’t sure if it was you or not. I spent the entire walk here looking up pictures and trying to decide if I actually recognized you or if it was just my brain being hopeful.”

“Wow. I guess I’ve changed, huh?” He rubbed a hand across his face, still smiling that stupid, beautiful smile that made you all nervous, and your eyes followed, tracing over the familiarity of his features- from his eyes up to his hair and down to his chin, maybe lingering for a second too long on the way his lips looked so soft and tender right now, curled up at the corners into a little smirk.

“Not that much, actually.”

You hadn’t realized how intimate that moment seemed until he caught your gaze, smiling cheekily, and you were pretty sure he knew you were just checking him out. “Lucky for you, you got to skip past my awkward teenage years.” He lightened the mood, poking fun at himself like he knew how to do. Brushing the hazy hot feelings out of the air and blaming them on the rush of meeting your childhood friend after all these years, you reached for your water in order to cool the fire inside of you and the blush on your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sure I would’ve loved to see that.”

You and Amy were over the fucking moon when you went home that night. You had exchanged Instagram handles and said your goodbyes to each of the men you had been talking with- she claimed to have been talking to Tito for the rest of the night and honestly, you’d believe anything at this point, after learning that your childhood romance- ahem, friendship- was with Mat Barzal. It took everything in you not to shriek like crazed fangirls. As soon as you got out of the bar, the realization finally hit you that you finally found Mat, and meanwhile, Amy was starstruck, having spent the night actually talking to NHL players and actually holding solid conversation.

“Holy shit please tell me everything! Right now!”

“Ames…” You could have told her what it was like to talk to him, disregarding anything in your past, the way he listened intently and made you feel like the only person in the world when his eyes were on you. You took her hands and looked into her eyes seriously, “Ames, we were right.” Okay, so much for not shrieking. Your friend threw her arms around you, jumping up and down for you. You couldn’t blame her, everything that happened tonight was crazy.

“You’re telling me that the kid you hung out with at ten years old has evolved into the one and only Mathew Barzal? Did he remember you?”

To be honest, it had taken everything in you not to try and drag him home with you or go home with him. He was intoxicating in all his warmth, the way his nose scrunched up, and his eyebrows arched when he smiled. The way he threw his head back when he laughed. The scent of his cologne had buzzed around your senses all night, clouding your judgment and making you want to say “fuck reconnecting as friends” and jump him right there. In fact, it still lingered around you after being pulled against his chest all night, and part of you wondered if it was the alcohol in his system, though not enough to make him drunk, that caused him to wrap his arm over your shoulder. If you had maybe harbored a tiny crush since your summer with him, it was heightened times 100 because of tonight.

You could tell that reconnecting with him- and eventually becoming friends again- was going to take a lot of self-control if you were gonna feel like this the whole time.

“Yeah. And he wants to catch up tomorrow. He said he’d DM me.” Amy was in the middle of shrieking in joy for you when, as if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the first thing you saw after opening it was a message.

barzal97: Get home safe :)

“Girl, he loves you!” You laughed and shook your head as she shook your shoulder and patted your back, “You snagged yourself a hockey player!”

After you left, Mat didn’t see any reason to stay out longer. He almost couldn’t believe it- had someone slipped something in his drink? Was this just a dream? But then he opened Instagram and scrolled through your Instagram momentarily after DMing you and stopped on a picture of you and your friends, it was clear- he’d found you. You’d found him, more like. After ten goddamn years. It felt like a movie. You still had the same vibe, he could feel it in him the moment you were beside him. What was it…? Familiarity. Warmth. Comfort. Nostalgia. Whatever it was, it was you. After taking a moment to reflect on everything that had just happened, he was quick to finish his drink and find his friend, wanting to head home and prepare for his little meetup tomorrow.

As he was heading out the door with Tito, Mat knew he needed to confide in somebody. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

“Does it have something to do with that girl I sent over?”

“(Y/N)? You sent her over?”

“Yeah, I was talking with her friend. I noticed she didn’t come back after going to look for you.” Mat noticed the suggestive tone in his friend's voice and felt his face go pink at the thought of hiding away in a bathroom to make out- and maybe more- with you.

“No! Nothing like that. She was my friend when we were kids.” He had a serious look on his face, and Tito knew that Mat wasn’t kidding about this. “Really. We have a crazy story. We met ten years ago on vacation. We hung out for a month, and I haven’t heard from her since. I didn’t know her last name or anything, and she didn’t know mine, so it’s not like we could look for each other. But she found me.”

“Wow. She just said she was a fan.”

“Well, wouldn’t you think they were crazy if they told you that story.”

“It does sound like a movie.” He laughed a bit, patting Mat’s back. “So, what’s the deal with her now? Friend? Do you liiiike her? Do you like-like her?” The teasing tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“What are we, in middle school?” But he still shrugged, sighing. “I don’t know. We’re going out to catch up tomorrow.”

“Ooh.”

“Shut up.” He went silent for a moment, wondering over his question. Did he like you? He wasn’t sure. “Ya know, she’s with me in almost every photo from that summer. That’s how much we were together.”

“Well, if you guys hit it off, you should date. I don’t need a competitor for best friend.” It was a joke, Mat knew and smiled at it, but he honestly couldn’t shake the idea of dating you. No, no, he’s only feeling this way because he hasn’t seen you in a while. It��s nothing but a bunch of resurfacing memories.

Hopefully, anyway.

The two of you really did hit it off the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next. You still got along just as well as you did when you were young, and maybe even better, now that you were adults and had more interesting things to talk about. He was funny, even funnier than he was as a child, and despite your original thought that the fame of being in the NHL must have changed him, he was actually kind of modest and shrugged and smiled with a pink flush on his face when you brought up his accomplishments. It was easy to be with him. He could talk and talk about his life and still keep you comfortable, inviting you to tell your own story, gushing over accomplishments that felt so small to you.

And that one catch-up date ended up being months and months more of friendship.

Friendship with Mat was one of the best things that ever happened to you. He was the ideal friend, he listened to you and kept an eye on you and pushed you out of your comfort zone when it was necessary. He loved hearing you talk about things you enjoyed and tried his best to find joy in your hobbies, even if he thought some were funny or boring. He was sweet, endearing, teasing. And it wasn’t long before he began bringing you out on casual outings with some of his personal friends, gushing and getting really into telling the story of how you were separated for ten years and reunited by maybe fate, maybe luck, who knew.

The only problem was that you wanted him to kiss you.

You wanted him to kiss you when you went out with him and Tito and Amy on Christmas, singing carols together and teasing him, asking him to sing louder because you loved the sound. You wanted him to kiss you on New Years, when you stood hand in hand in Times Square, shivering and smiling with red cheeks, but instead settled for a hug. You wanted him to kiss you after returning from his first All Star game in January, you wanted to congratulate him on being an All Star, because he spent so much time praising you and you wanted him to know he was just as amazing. You wanted him to kiss you when he was drunk on his 22nd birthday, all red-faced and giggly and dancing in the nightclub with a red solo cup in his hand and that stupid snapback on that made him look like a frat boy but suited him so well. He was hugging you to his side with one arm and, even like this, you were just praying that he would lay a messy, drunk kiss onto your cheek.

You just wanted his lips on yours. So, so bad.

But despite that, behind Amy, who was still holding onto the title of best friend, he was always the one you went to when you needed comfort or a companion or a distraction, or just to talk about certain things. Things like this.

A week after his birthday, seven months into your friendship, you showed up at his door without warning, slumping against the doorframe when he opened it. “I have a problem.”

“With showing up unannounced? Yeah, I know.” He was joking and smiling, but maybe you missed it with how stressed you were. When you didn’t respond, he must have noticed the tired, strained look on your face and his happy expression dropped. He let you into his apartment, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. It wasn’t an odd thing in your friendship, he was always a touchy guy, especially when you were down, and you always welcomed it. He pulled you over to sit at the island in his kitchen and sat across from you. “What’s wrong?”

“I got a voicemail from my parents today.” You were already pulling out your phone to play the voicemail for him. Ever since that one month on the beach eleven years ago now, you and your family had been going back every summer for a week, up until four years ago, when you suddenly had a summer job and couldn’t afford to take a week off. You missed the beach, sure, but you definitely didn’t miss the way your parents would always find a way to argue and fight. Now, they were calling you and asking if you could come along this year.

“I think I’m missing the problem here. What’s so bad about a beach trip?”

You sighed and lifted your head. “Well, I want to go, and I already got my boss’s okay to take that week off. I really miss the beach. But my family is just… so overwhelming sometimes. I could try to hang out alone the whole time, but I’ll go crazy before the week is over.” There was a pause as Mat leaned back in thought, considering his options. Was this crazy? Was he crazy for doing this? Definitely. But, fuck it, ya know?

“I can come with.”

You scoffed. "No way, I'm sure you have other plans."

"Not really. Not that week." He saw the look on your face, and he really didn’t want you to have to deal with your family all alone for a week. "Look, I'll pay for my share of the trip, and I won't bother anybody." You laughed. There's no way Mat could go a week without bothering anybody. He laughed along, glad to see you happy. "Seriously. If you need somebody, I'll be there."

And that was it. That was how you ended up on a beach trip with the one and only Mathew Barzal, eleven years after you first met..

The first few hours of the trip down were blurry. Your family, in true vacationer nature, decided that all of you, your parents, siblings, you and Mat, should carpool together. So, at 8:00 AM, you loaded into the car, your parents up front, obviously, your younger twin siblings behind them so they could be monitored, and you and Mat in the very back. This was definitely a bad idea, 100%, but you couldn’t help the giddy feeling that sparked up inside of you when you told your family you would be bringing a boy along. Or the feeling you got when you looked at Mat sitting next to you, looking worn out and sleepy after six hours of travel-rest stop-travel-gas stop, with four more hours of travel left and suggested he try to get some sleep. You slept through the rest of the day, only waking up for bathroom breaks and rest stops, until eventually, you woke up around six in the evening with your head on Mat’s shoulder and his body angled towards yours, snoring softly and looking ever so soft.

“Mat, Mat wake up.” You shook him gently, laughing at the way he was drooling a little bit. He blinked his pretty eyes open and looked around, a little dazed.

“Are we there?” His sleepy, mumbling voice was so cute.

“Technically, yeah. But we can’t get into the rental house until tomorrow morning. So we found a place to sleep.” He groaned, his eyes slipping shut in protest, and showed no sign of moving from his seat. “Come on, you’d rather sleep in a real bed than this car, right?”

Those words had him slipping out of the car, his eyes half shut and holding your hand loosely, dragging his feet the whole way as you led the way to your shared room. He looked so cute in this outfit, grumpy and soft in a tee shirt and shorts and his hair looking extra messy. There was nothing you wanted to do more than sleep, but one detail had you stopping in your tracks as you opened the door. Your parents had paid for three rooms- one for them, your siblings, and you and Mat- and of course, since your parents hated each other and apparently can’t stand to sleep in the same bed anymore, you and Mat got stuck in the room with one bed. Mat didn’t seem to care though, as he dropped his slides by the door and immediately collapsed in the bed, falling asleep almost immediately after mumbling for you.

“C’mon, (Y/N), get in...”

As you dropped down beside him in bed an appropriate distance from him and tried to ignore the sleeping beauty beside you, you began wondering if this whole trip was a bad idea. No, no way, you quickly pushed that thought away. This was Mat, your Mat, and you’re actually on the beach again with him. You fell asleep that night with a smile on your face, listening to the soft snores of the man beside you and trying to imagine what your week had in store for you.

Realistically, there's only one thing you can predict about this trip- it’s gonna take a lot of self-control.

#i feel like im really gonna be proud of this fic #smile like sunshine #mat barzal #mathew barzal #nhl writing #mine #my post #op #fanfiction #imagine #fic

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neapolitanadonna · 4 years ago

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cottagecore has taken over my life. can i request a scenario where human au England is living in this little cottage in the flower fields and he sees this strange girl in the fields all the time? He just kinda watches her and admires her and stuff and cute soft cottage core things ack I'll leave the creativity to you THANK YOU!!!

Oh you KNOW my cottagecore ass had fun with this one. I genuinely felt soft writing this so I hope everyone feels soft too. I love getting the opportunity to make imperialists look soft, its by far my favorite hobby of this quarantine.

Also this is a bit long, so remember to click keep reading!!

Arthur was a hardworking man in the government who, despite practically signing his life away to it, hated the government. His London flat, aggressive cabbies, black coffee at 5 in the morning, three piece suit everyday life was something that got him far in life, it was a shame that most days, he couldn’t care less about it.

After his grandmother passed, she left him her small brick cottage in Painswick. At first he thought of selling it, not that he needed the extra money, it would just be a shame to leave empty real estate. He didn’t think he would ever spend his days in the little place, but in a time where he tried to manifest nothing but peace, the universe brought him to the cottage.

He spends his weekends there. It isn’t big government buildings and the bustling streets of London, but to him, it’s perfect. If he wasn’t tethered to the responsibilities of being an adult, he would pack up everything he had and move to the cottage. He considered it often, he had nothing left in London for him, anyway. He lived alone in London and in Painswick, but Painswick felt less lonely.

His grandmother's cottage was relatively secluded, far enough from the little village to be truly alone, but close enough if he needed to walk to get anything. However, oddly enough, even if there were no other residences near him, one particular creature always showed up in his backyard.

He wasn’t a fan of judging a woman by her physical traits, but he remembers the first time he laid eyes on her perfectly. It was cinematic, and if it was a film, he would watch it again and again. She wore a baby blue dress with a flower print that fell just above her knees. Her hair was pulled back into braids with two little bows the same color as her dress. He couldn’t quite see the color of her eyes from his window, but they held some sort of power in them even from afar. As she gently walked through the flower fields, she tucked the wildflowers she picked into the weaves of her braids, filling them with Bluebells, Columbine, Daisies, and Cornflowers. She didn’t trip over plants or roots that peeked through the dirt. She seemed to thank the earth each time she picked a flower. As he watched her card through the flowers, spin in the field, then sit under the Crab apple tree up upon the hill, he figured he must’ve been hallucinating. It had been a long week of work, he had gone through so many rough emotions that it was possible she was an angel and he was on the verge of death.

Until she showed up again.

Her visits to his field were almost scheduled, but sporadic all at the same time. She would come, sometimes pick flowers, others leave them alone, but dance among them either way. She would sometimes bring little baskets of peaches and bread for herself, other times she came with nothing but herself. She once got close enough to a deer that it let her pet its head, the same thing happened another time with a rabbit. His grandmother used to tell him stories and lore about Painswick, how faeries disguised themselves as humans to lure them in. He couldn’t help but wonder if his grandmother wasn’t just telling old tales. There was no way this girl was human.

She seemed devoid of any human flaw. She couldn’t have been any older than 20, but even though Arthur was 23, his position aged him five years. She always seemed so happy, so carefree, like nothing in the world could have made her upset. If anyone else came through his property to take his flowers, he would be sure to lecture them, but she was his only exception.

It was a Saturday morning when Arthur woke up feeling less on edge than usual. He was so used to having a migraine that waking up without one felt like a giant weight off his shoulders. The light filtered through the old blinds just perfectly, hitting the old paintings of flowers on the wall. It occurred to him that he did more staring out his window into the fields than he did outside. Maybe today would be the perfect day for him to spend a day out there, no stress, no work, and definitely no migraine.

The sun was still rising as he walked out into the fields. He never noticed it before, but bumble bees danced around every honeysuckle and corn flower. He supposed they would be hard to notice from far away.

He set down his little blanket at the base of the crab apple tree. It made him feel a certain sense of anxiety knowing that this is where the ethereal girl usually spent her time, that he was sitting in her spot despite it being his property. He looked out on the fields, the sun rising behind them, and began to realize why the girl loved it here so much.

He spent a good while like this, staring off into the fields, down at his cottage, the trees and wood that extended beyond the fields. He only stopped daydreaming when he heard humming.

He recognized it as Donovan’s “Sunny Goodge Street” before he processed who the humming could have possibly come from. When his brain finally did process, yes, it had to be none other than the voice of the girl, he felt his heart leap into his throat. She must’ve been coming up from behind, and his best option was to sit absolutely still from the other side of the tree hoping she would walk the other way around and avoid him completely.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, but he couldn’t quite admit that he was afraid. She had all the odds of the universe on her side, she might’ve been mother nature herself, and who was he compared to that? Unfortunately, his desires came to a fault. Her humming stopped, and her footsteps got louder. A soft, faint giggle could be heard from behind the tree.

“Hello?” Arthur’s heart leaped to his throat again. Such a sweet voice she had, too. In retrospect, he should've moved, stood up to greet her and introduce himself, but he was frozen. He spent all week talking and negotiating with big government hot shots, yet he couldn’t face a silly girl who spent her days in the flower fields.

“Are you hiding from me?” She giggled again, and then she was next to him, standing above him. He couldn’t help but exhale deeply the moment he saw her. His cheeks were for sure red, such an embarrassing thing for a grown man, he thought. She wore the same blue dress she wore the day he first saw her, her hair let loose and gently curled around her shoulders, instead.

“Are you the funny man who lives down in the cottage there?” She asked, taking an uninvited seat in front of him on his blanket. She smelled like honey, roses, and the morning. She was even more beautiful up close than she was from his bedroom window.

“Lots of questions you have for me. I should be the one asking who you are. This is my property” Arthur replied. The moment he said it, he felt a pang of guilt. He had a hard time talking to somebody without being defensive anymore. The girl didn’t seem to care.

“I’m really sorry.” She smiled, almost solemnly. “I’m __. There was this sweet old lady, Mrs. Kirkland, who lived here quite a bit ago. She was a regular at my nans flower shop in town, she used to invite me over quite a bit to have tea. Before she passed, she told me I could still visit the fields whenever I wanted. It never occurred to me that somebody else would be living here after she…”

“Oh, don’t worry, __.” Was all Arthur could muster up saying. The way her name spilled off his tongue sent a shot of adrenaline up his spine. __. So very fitting.

He found it strange from the start that his grandmother left him her cottage, of all things. Maybe, somehow, this was her funny little way of playing matchmaker for him. The blush rose back to his cheeks.

“I’m Mrs. Kirklands grandson, Arthur. I’m sorry for making accusations.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “I’m sure if I saw some strange girl on my property I would be curious, too.”

“How did you know I lived here?” Arthur asked, meeting her bright __ eyes.

“It just feels less lonely when you’re here.” She smiled. “That, and I heard you drop your mug one morning. Your reaction wasn’t all that discreet.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Oh, for fucks sake, you mean to tell me you saw that?”

“I promise I’m not a stalker,” her smile seemingly permanent on her face. “Just observant, is all.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of being one.”

“Oh, but I can tell you’ve thought about it.”

Arthur wanted to tell her he didn’t think any malice of her. He wanted to tell her that even if she was stalking him, it was the best intrusion of his privacy he’s ever had. He wanted to grab her little hand that rested upon her knee, but he knew he couldn’t. He’s never felt so intimidated by another person in his life.

Arthur said nothing to her in response, and instead for a moment, __ studied him, then stood up.

“Don’t leave.” He said, suddenly. It wasn’t even his intention, it came out of him on instinct. She looked back down on him and smiled, and shook her head.

“I wasn’t planning on it, darling.” She giggled. “I’ll be right back.”

Arthur watched her as she tumbled down the hill to the fields, the tall grasses and flowers welcoming her like she was a part of them. He finally had the opportunity to sigh, and run a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop thinking about how his grandmother probably set this whole thing up for him, she was always a clever woman.

__ came back a few minutes later with hands full of flowers. She sat back down in front of him, and carefully broke the stems of the flowers to make them shorter. He wanted to question her process, but instead just watched her. He finally made a noise when his breath hitched as she moved to push some of his hair out of his face.

“You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” __ marveled, her own eyes gentle as they looked into his.

“I- Thank you.” Arthur held back a stammer. She brushed his hair from his face again, then gently placed a daisy behind his ear.

“Perfect.” She giggled, pushing his hair away from the other side of his face to make room for another daisy.

“You’re ridiculous, woman.” He shook his head, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Who on god's earth are you?”

She shook her head, and shrugged.

“I’m just trying to enjoy the life I was given. No use in living unless you spend every day the way you want.”

“Do you work?”

“At my nans flower shop, yes. It’s not as much about money as it is enjoying my time with my nan.” She shook her head. “Besides basic bills and the likes, everything I need I make myself.”

“Do you drive?”

“A bike. I never felt the need for a car.”

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Of course, I like to live naturally, that doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian.”

“I was just wondering.” Arthur chuckled, making the bold move of pushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile spread across her face. He grabbed a cornflower and tucked it behind her ear. He felt breath against his arm, there was something so intimate about her breathing. It had barely started to occur to him that this was the girl he’s admired from afar for months.

“Perfect.” He teased, eliciting a giggle from her. His hand still touched against the softness of her cheek, lingering there, but she didn’t seem to mind. She gently reached for his hand, lowering it from her face, and instead threading her fingers in between his. The softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the sweet little chime in her voice, everything about her overwhelmed him.

God, he wished he could thank his grandmother for this.

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #APH England #aph england x reader #hetalia headcanons #hetalia scenarios #hetalia imagines #arthur kirkland #england x reader

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purplebass · 4 years ago

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It’s Just a Rock // Kell and Lila

Hey! Premise: this fanfiction has two versions. This one, posted only on tumblr, is rated T. There is another one, slightly explicit that I only posted on AO3, that is rated E and that you can find at THIS LINK.

Summary: Kell and Lila just docked on a small island, but they can't find their way back to their ship. As they are exploring, they find a cave... Rating: T Couple/Characters: Kelila, Kell Maresh and Lila Bard Fandom: Shades of Magic

“I told you that we shouldn’t have left the crew alone,” Kell grunted with annoyance. “Nor the ship.”

“And lose the fun of exploring this piece of land? Never,” Lila replied, walking faster than her companion did.

They had docked on this small island a few hours earlier. Lila didn’t want nor need to put the Night Spire on hold, but somehow, she had been captured by the view and used the excuse that the men on the ship could take a break to enjoy the sun or be lazy. Whatever. It was a silly excuse, but she was the captain and she had the right to decide if she wanted to take a detour. It wouldn’t endanger anybody, unless there were wild animals. Lila hoped there weren’t.

“I wonder if we’ll ever find our way back,” Kell shook his head, exhausted. “We’ve been walking around for too long, and I can’t see the ship anywhere.”

Lila stopped abruptly, making Kell almost stumble on his feet. “Look!”

He didn’t know what distracted her, but he glanced at what she was pointing. “I don’t see anything.” And he was right, because aside from the ocean touching the shore they were treading, there was nothing much in sight. If they didn’t count the fish or the occasional green on the sand.

Lila, who had put up with Kell’s reminder that they had probably lost their way – which, she hated to admit, they probably had – rolled her eyes and turned to face him. “And I’m the one with one functioning eye.” She put her hand on his shoulder and guided his gaze towards what it seemed a high rock… and nothing more.

“I only see a big rock,” Kell said, shrugging.

“It’s not just a big rock,” she protested. “Come,” she ordered, and took his hand. This way, she would be sure that he would follow her. Knowing him, he would do it anyway. She still wasn’t used to somebody looking after her and making sure she was alright. Only the thought was comforting. She couldn’t imagine a day on the Night Spire or on land, without Kell by her side. And the idea terrified her. But she wouldn’t say it out loud.

Once they were closer to the rock, Kell realized that Lila was right. “It’s a secret beach,” he commented as they passed under the natural arc that the rock created.

Lila grinned. “Nothing is what it seems,” she chuckled, walking backwards and almost falling on her back. Her grin vanished from her face at once, soon to be replaced by panic.

Kell caught her despite it was a false alarm, until she fell for real, and took him on the sand with her. She closed her eyes to brace for the fall, but he had been faster, and secured his hand behind her head and his arm on the side of her body. She glanced at Kell. He was gritting his teeth, perhaps for the shock or for the pain. He had taken the hit, after all.

“Are you okay?” she asked, but at that point Kell’s face had already turned neutral. She couldn’t see the strain that had just marred his face a moment ago. She hoped it meant he wasn’t hurt.

Kell’s head bobbed slightly, but Lila didn’t understand if it was a nod or something else. He leaned in and she thought he wanted to check that she was alright too, but instead, he kissed her. Lila felt the air knocked out of her lungs at his sudden approach, and she didn’t have time to take a breath and wasn’t prepared to welcome him. She let him place her gently on the sand. His hand was still holding the back of her head. It was comforting.

“You are fine,” Kell said once they eventually stopped kissing. “But still under shock.”

Lila frowned. “I’m not under shock,” she objected, and it was true. She fell, alright, but she was fine. And she knew herself enough to know she meant it. There had been times in the past where she tried to hide her pain, but not now.

“You need a reality check,” he continued, serious.

“I… what? What about –,” she asked, but she had already lost him.

“This is what I meant,” he explained with a straight, amused expression, and kissed her again. “But it’s still not enough.”

“Ouch!” Lila screamed, breaking the moment. “Did you pinch my back?” she asked Kell accusingly, but he shook his head and looked behind her.

“It was a crab,” he said, since the shellfish was still there, and he most likely wanted to pinch Lila again.

He didn’t even finish that Lila stood on her feet, throwing Kell on the sand in the process. She looked at the orange crustaceous that was slowly moving on the beach, as Kell laughed.

“I’m allergic to shellfish, okay,” she told him, but her eyes didn’t stop following the fish until he was far enough to bother them again.

Kell stood up. He didn’t know whether Lila was speaking the truth or not, but it didn’t matter. “Good thing you’re not allergic to fish altogether, since we’re out in the sea and that’s what we usually eat every day,” Kell commented, and Lila snapped out of her reverie. She was still checking that the fish was not coming back.

She slapped his shoulder. “Quick, check if there is blood,” she ordered him, and turned around.

Kell obliged, of course. Even though he believed that was an excuse to recollect herself after the shock. “The coast is clear,” he confirmed, even though her pants were black and it was impossible to see if she had been bitten. Lila shook her head, glared at Kell, then removed the sand from her clothes.

“Captain,” a voice said right after she was done.

Lila wanted to die. They had almost been caught, even if they were just kissing. “Yes?” she asked to the man, who was part of her crew.

“We thought we lost you,” the man said. “We’ve been looking for you for an hour.”

“We were looking for dinner,” Lila said, making up the first thing she could think of, hoping her cheeks didn’t turn red because of embarrassment. It wasn’t a secret that there was something between her and Kell, but she still wanted to keep her private life... private. “There are crabs in this cave.”

“We were trying to catch some to bring on the ship,” Kell added, and he glanced at Lila, who was also looking at him, and she grinned slightly, thankful for his interjection.

“But they kept running away, so we better get back on the ship. Would you lead the way, Jest?”

“Yes, captain,” Jest said, and Lila and Kell followed. They stayed behind him, though, so they could hold each other’s hand as they walked back to their ship.

#adsom #kelila #kell maresh #lila bard #a darker shade of magic #a gathering of shadows #a conjuring of light #shades of magic #adsom fanfic #kell and lila #som #ve schwab #tweety.writes

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sunshine-shitposts · 4 years ago

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ALRIGHT. First selfship piece is going UP. I got some big inspiration from @amethystsoda and @dongiovannaswife so like... love you guys 💖💖 no stinky vampire man... yet. Hoping to get the next part up within the next week.

Dust in the Wind—Part 1

It had been a while since Jotaro had been to the Dallas Speedwagon Foundation Headquarters, and it had since moved locations to outside downtown… somewhere.

It was a damn pain if you asked him.

Dallas was a mess to move around in; you were better off on foot, since there were so many one-way streets. His grandfather had explained, the first time that he had brought his grandson to the Foundation in Dallas, that it was probably because car size in America outgrew the more narrow streets that Dallas began with. Jotaro himself didn't really understand it until he saw for himself: Texans loved big cars. There was an astonishing amount of pick up trucks here, compared to other places he'd been.

He wasn't very familiar with Texas, he had to admit. He'd visited Galveston and Corpus Christi more often for marine work, though he had to admit to himself that they weren't his favorite places in terms of the ocean; this side of the coastline of the Gulf of Mexico tended to have a lot of sediment in its water. When he stayed at a house in a place called Crystal Beach for a while, he remembered how searching for hermit crabs with a colleague was rather annoying due to the brown murkiness of the water.

The houses on stilts were quite novel, though.

...That was enough reminiscing.

Jotaro huffed, figuring he could just go to the old location to ask for assistance—it was still being used by the Foundation despite it not being the main building anymore—when a bright voice floated through the air.

"Hey, mom. Y'got everything?"

"Yes, but it's a lot, you know, they turned in projects… can you open the trunk?"

"'Course, no problem. Gimme a sec…"

Jotaro looked up from his map, seeing a young woman helping her mother begin to load several large rolled up cardboard tubes into the back seat of a small blue hatchback.

The woman was dressed comfortably, a boon in the blossoming Texas heat, with a black wide-brimmed hat and minty-colored sunglasses and a lazy smile on her face. She couldn't have been more than an inch over five feet, and her wavy purple hair fluttered in the wind. What didn't look conducive to staying cool were the dark, full-length leggings under her jean shorts or the knee-length, full sleeve knit cardigan, but he knew what it felt like to have a comfort jacket. Her mother, several inches taller than her, was well (albeit colorfully) dressed with a lanyard and ID swinging around her neck, and a mobile folding cart filled with books, folders, and cardboard tubes. The mother's hair, a light silvery-blonde that fell around her shoulders, made Jotaro wonder if they were actually related, but he admitted to himself that stranger things do happen, and hair dye did exist.

Jotaro hummed to himself and looked back at the map as a gust of wind between the tall buildings sent papers scattering, the mother crying out in dismay.

"Sunnie–!!"

"Don't worry mom, I got it."

Jotaro watched the paper of his map flutter suddenly and unexpectedly, swooping in the opposite direction that it had been previously. It was such a sudden change that Jotaro looked back up from the map, only to see all the papers floating through the air to finally gather into the young woman's outstretched hand.

"I'll never ever understand how you can do that," the mother said, her voice equal parts thankfulness and bafflement, "And I don't think I ever will."

"You keep saying that, y'know," her daughter laughed, easily hefting the heavy folding cart into the trunk of her car.

"I know!! But it's true, it's like magic! But real!!"

Jotaro focused his gaze on the young woman.

Stand users are drawn to each other.

When the two women were nearly finished loading all of the mother's things into the car, he approached them, trying to relax his intense demeanor as much as possible. The woman's mother reminded him a lot of his own, and he didn't want to frighten her.

"Excuse me," he asked, fishing around in a pocket inside his coat to pull out his notebook. The two women turned to look at him, the mother's eyebrows raising as she made an 'oooh' noise. Her daughter's expression, however, was completely unreadable behind her large sunglasses, but Jotaro felt her gaze. Her carefree attitude had suddenly disappeared, and he knew that she was likely sizing him up. He wondered if she, too, felt the same weird restlessness in her own chest. "I was wondering if you could tell me how to get here," he continued. Her mother leaned in to see the address written on the notebook's page, then lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Sunnie! He's asking about the Speedwagon Foundation!"

Immediately, the daughter seemed to relax, looking at the page as well. "Oh, no shit?" After another second, her eyebrows rose above her sunglasses. "Oh! No shit!!"

"You know of it?" Jotaro asked, putting the notebook back into the chest pocket.

"Know of it? I'm heading there, after I drop mom back off at the house," the younger woman laughed, extending her arm for a handshake. "I'm Sunnie Green, recently employed by the Foundation. Good to meet you, Mr…?"

"Jotaro Kujo," he replied, accepting the shake and subsequently drowning her small hand in his own. Her shake was strong and firm and confident in a pleasantly unexpected way.

The second he said his name, though, a wry grin broke out on her face.

"No fuckin' way," Sunnie said, surprised, "I have heard some stories. Good to meet you in the flesh. Foundation's been expecting you."

Jotaro grunted. He knew that after his 'trip' to Egypt all those years ago, people at the Foundation liked to gossip about him, and he had hoped that those tales and rumors had died down, but it seemed that they'd persisted. He wondered if they'd only gotten more wild with time. "Well. That aside, if you could point me in the right direction, it would be much appreciated."

"Well, uh, it's not quite in Dallas anymore? It's a bit away from here, so uh…" Sunnie trailed off, her face scrunching up in thought.

"Sunnie," her mom stage-whispered, "Sunnie, you should drive him there."

"Huh-whaa?" Sunnie looked at her mom, eyes wide, then nodded like a lightbulb went off over her head, crossing her arms and grinning, "Yeah!! Yeah, that just makes sense. That makes so much sense!!"

"That won't be necessary–" Jotaro began, but Sunnie shot him a confident grin.

"Don't be silly! This is the perfect solution. It's late in the day, getting a taxi or rideshare there will cost you money you don't need to spend, I mean come on. I'm right here, dude. I gotcha." The smaller woman laughed and put the final bag of papers in the trunk of her car, shutting the door. "I'm not taking no for an answer. And mom?" she looked at her mom expectantly, who smiled widely.

"I'll sit in the back!" She beamed before looking back up at Jotaro, "That way you don't have to sit with all the projects."

Without giving him the chance to offer otherwise, Mrs. Green made her way to the back seat, opening the door and getting in. Jotaro breathed a quiet sigh, gathering himself before he walked to the front passenger's door and opened it. He did not miss Sunnie's triumphant smirk before he ducked inside. To his surprise, it was actually roomy inside the small car. At least, roomy enough to be comfortable for him. There was some music softly playing over the speakers and a water bottle in one of the cupholders, and dangling off of the rearview mirror were some small pom poms and repurposed cell phone charms, several of them Pokémon. In a little storage area under the main console, he saw a lanyard with an ID decorated with the Speedwagon Foundation logo on it.

Sunnie got in the car as well, buckling up and shifting out of park, turning smoothly into the street when it was safe.

"I'm excited for you to go to the new Foundation Headquarters, Mr. Kujo," Mrs. Green chirped, hands patting her bright red jeans excitedly, "Some of my former students helped decorate the interior! I'm very proud of their work."

"Mom's an interior design professor," Sunnie laughed, "Used to get hired for private homes and hospitals and stuff. There was that one home on White Rock with the spiral staircase? Fucking dope."

"I still talk to them," her mom said airily, "Sometimes I stop by for cookies."

Jotaro didn't quite know how to respond. The two women were very open and friendly and it was making him feel… strange. Was it just a Texan thing in general? Joseph had once mentioned 'Southern Hospitality'. Then again, who could say? The old man liked to talk for the sake of talking sometimes.

He caught a minute glance from Sunnie, who then leaned her head back, a lazy grin on her face.

"So mom, what're all those projects in the back?" She asked, "No balsa wood models this time? That was a nightmare to transport."

"But those were group projects and they were light weight! These plans are deceptively heavy and there are so many–"

As Carol rambled on about the projects sitting around her, Jotaro found himself happy that Sunnie seemingly sensed his discomfort and acted on his behalf to divert her mother's attention. He zoned out, his mind stuck on the impending meeting—one that he had never imagined he would have to have, and one that was admittedly making him feel a little sick in his stomach.

The red brick house they arrived at was in a quiet little subdivision about 40 minutes in traffic away from Downtown Dallas, lined with large trees and with a nice pond. The houses were all two stories, most driveways accessible from the street, and the summer warmth and ample sunshine had the lawns dotted with flowers of many colors. Sunnie parked the car in front of the pebbled sidewalk to the house, and the large dark blue front door opened. A salt-and-pepper haired man with a moustache walked out, wearing an old shirt and jeans and carrying a duffle bag. Sunnie and Mrs. Green got out of the car, and Jotaro decided to get out as well.

The man, presumably Mr. Green, seemed surprised. "I doubt one of your students turned him in," he laughed nonetheless. Mrs. Green giggled.

"No, no! He's with the Foundation!" Mrs. Green explained, and her husband rolled his eyes.

"I was kidding, Carol," he said, voice deadpan. Sunnie snickered.

"We found him looking for the new campus downtown, so I offered to take him there. Speaking of, we gotta get this stuff outta the Spaceship so we can head out," Sunnie turned to Jotaro, "This won't take too long–"

"I'll help," he told her, "Least I can do."

Sunnie paused, pursed her lips, and nodded.

With four sets of hands, unloading took no time at all, but Jotaro once again noted that Sunnie seemed stronger than her smaller size let on. At the end of it, her dad handed her the duffle bag, which she tossed in the back seat.

"See you in a few days," she said, hugging her parents, "Don't get too wild without me around."

"Darn. We'll have to cancel that crazy party," her dad grinned, and she smacked him on the arm.

Jotaro got back into the car with Sunnie, and she drove them out of the subdivision.

"…Do you live with your parents?" Jotaro asked, a sudden burst of curiosity getting the better of him. Sunnie looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a brief second, then turned her gaze back to the road as she flipped on her turn signal.

"I left my husband recently," she said, smoothly turning onto the service road, and Jotaro suddenly felt incredibly awkward, "Got out of the apartment as fast as I could. Grabbed a few things, said goodbye to the dog, and fucking split. It was really sudden, and since I don't have that much money to my name and my husband currently is in control of my finances, living with my parents is easier. I'm actually in my childhood room right now, when I stay at the house." She laughed dryly, merging onto the turnpike.

"Mm," Jotaro simply responded, and Sunnie laughed.

"It's not weird, dude, come on. Chill," she said, passing a particularly large eighteen wheeler and switching two lanes to the left, "I mean, it's kinda weird. But it's fine. I don't mind. I've heard a lot about you from some of the other employees already, I think it's fair that you know about me, if just a little." She looked at him briefly, eyes twinkling. "You're kind of a hot topic at the Foundation, you know."

Jotaro shifted in his seat and looked out his window.

"Which brings me to an important point," she continued, "I know why you're here."

Immediately, he looked back at her, eyes narrowing. That was supposed to be need-to-know information.

"I'm a Liaison for the Speedwagon Foundation. That's my official title, but I have a very specific job, and he is why you're here."

"You mean you–"

"Yes, and I'm aware of your history with him. Well, with the one from here." Her finger tapped the steering wheel pointedly. "I know you don't like him, that you have reason to not like him, and I know you won't like this one. But I'm imploring you not to start shit with him when you see him, okay? I've told him not to start shit with you so, you know, if you would be so kind."

Jotaro audibly gritted his teeth. This was just his fucking luck, running into that bastard's babysitter. "What makes you think he'd listen to you?" He growled.

"I don't know? He's been cool with me so far." She snorted. "I mean, he's an absolute piece of work, but it's been alright. No worse than teaching a class full of preschoolers can get on a bad day, but I did have to… establish that I can take care of myself against him."

"And how did you do that?"

"I stole his air," she said simply, "Made it impossible for him to breathe."

"Have you ever done that before? To someone else."

Her mouth fidgeted, eyes unreadable. They passed under the tollway in silence, broken by soft, ghastly wind chimes as a shimmering turquoise hand with a swirling wing shape on the wrist partially manifested on her shoulder, squeezing lightly before vanishing.

"You'll have to buy me a few drinks before I talk about that." Her voice was short, clipped. "I'm sure you have similar unlockable content you don't talk about otherwise."

It was a weird way to put it, but she was right. He did.

So he dropped the subject, looking back out the window.

"By the way, Catherine—Mrs. Gupta, rather—is here today, too," she said, tone easily switching from icy and guarded to light and airy, "She's the Regional COO, though I'm sure you know that. I'm told that she's the one who contacted you, after all."

Jotaro did not feel like answering. He didn't know what to say.

Sunnie merely glanced at him again, grinned to herself, and kept driving.

After Sunnie showed her credentials and pulled through the gated entrance of the new Dallas Speedwagon Foundation HQ, Jotaro let his eyebrows raise in surprise.

The previous location, having been built when Robert E. O. Speedwagon himself had struck black gold in Texas, was (while large) old, and it showed in its architecture and the relative closeness of the buildings. This, however, was a sprawling, modern campus with green spaces and fountains galore.

"We've got seven buildings here, but we'll be heading to the main one. Explore later if you'd like," Sunnie explained easily, searching for a parking spot. "I may be a… honestly kind of critical Subject Liaison, but I still don't have a dedicated parking space. That's fine, however," She lifted her finger and grinned, the sound of windchimes clinking in the air as her Stand fully manifested: lithe, vaguely robotic, feminine, and lined with light turquoise and shimmery silver. The face was mostly featureless and smooth like a plain mask, save for two large and sleek wing-like shapes on the sides, and two calculating but blank amber eyes. "We'll have her take care of this for us."

The Stand wiggled its fingers excitedly, then zoomed out of the roof of the car, unimpeded by the physical barrier. Jotaro watched, blank faced, then asked what could have been considered a very personal question.

"What's it's range?"

"Dust in the Wind's most powerful up to about six to nine feet from me, but she can and will travel quite far." That's… two to three meters, Jotaro translated in his head. "The further she gets, the less effective she is, but she's curious. She likes looking for things."

Jotaro huffed out the barest hint of a chuckle, remembering his time in jail before his trip to Egypt—how Star Platinum had brought him toys, beer, and reading materials in an attempt to placate him.

"I thought up this little tactic in college, since parking was shit there. It was cut-throat, honestly, so Windy helped scope out all the good spots." The Stand swooped down in front of the car and began nodding and pointing, motioning for them to follow. "Oh fuck yeah, it's a good one," Sunnie said happily before following as her Stand danced through the air in front of them, gracefully carving through the air. "She's playful. That's how I, uh, originally met… you know."

Jotaro looked at her, slightly confused. "Your Stand found him?"

She nodded, rounding a row of cars. "You know that weird feeling we got when we saw each other? How Stand users just kind of… know when other Stand users are around? I felt that when I first came here. She immediately jumped out and disappeared to find the source and found, well, him. Then he demanded to see the user, and bam," She shrugged, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, "We met."

Jotaro found himself grimacing at the mention of that man demanding anything and getting it. That piece of shit didn't deserve fuck all, in his opinion.

"Ah! There," Sunnie mumbled, pulling into a spot a row away from the front sidewalk. "She was right, it is good."

As she turned off the car and they both stepped out, Windy flew back to her user, nuzzling her face and disappearing. Sunnie grabbed her backpack and duffle bag from the backseat and they headed down the large sidewalk, lined with magnolias and sparkling water features.

"The old Speedwagon Foundation buildings are actually currently used for housing… supernatural objects. Like Stands tethered to items, fragments of pillars… there's this weird broken sword there that apparently possesses people, but when it does it just begs to be fixed," Sunnie rambled, shoving a hand in her long cardigan's pocket. Jotaro had to catch a breath, recalling that fight where Polnareff had indeed been possessed. That thing was here now? "This facility does a lot of R&D, field agent training, the like. Dallas has a lot of big companies around so they have some good deals, like with TI and stuff."

"You know a lot for someone who hasn't even been here for four months," Jotaro mumbled, glaring at the small woman. She glanced at him with a lazy smirk, the frog bell on her decorated backpack jingling softly as she walked next to him.

"I actually used to be in politics. Handled VAN data in my last campaign, but my strong suit was research. Following the money, making connections, y'know, all that mess," she said, tone light, "I know my way around things. Donor lists, requesting things under the FOIA, the like. I wanted to get a good picture of the Foundation before I thought about working here. And the rumors about their involvement in… supernatural matters interested me."

They walked through the large sliding glass doors into a cooled, busy lobby, shiny and sleek and new. Reflective surfaces, swooping centerpieces, statement greenery… it was impressive. What Jotaro did not appreciate was the eyes he felt on him the second he had walked in and the whispers that he knew were dancing around.

"Oh, Miss Green?" a receptionist pipped up upon seeing her, "And Dr. Kujo, oh!" The young man quickly patted down his curly chestnut hair, "I wasn't expecting you to–a-arrive together, huh. Well, Mrs. Gupta is waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mikel," Sunnie smiled, waltzing past the desk and towards a central elevator. Jotaro nodded his head slightly to the nervous young man as he continued to follow the smaller woman, stepping into the elevator. Sunnie leaned down (she didn't have to go too far) for a retina and thumb print scan, and the doors closed, the elevator smoothly starting up. They rode in silence, until the doors opened to a series of sterile white hallways.

"We're well underground, so you know," Sunnie mentioned as they began walking again. "It's easier to keep him down here with no threat of sunlight. The trick is that these lights outside his suite have a bit of UV in them. Sort of like how they keep the Pillar Man in D.C.," she informed him as they took a left, walking towards a large white double door. "Remember," she said pointedly, "No fights."

She leaned in for another eye and hand scan, and they passed through a short hall and through another sliding double door.

The first thing Jotaro saw in this more lavishly designed room was a tall, lithe, dark skinned woman with close-shaven hair wearing a golden pencil skirt and a deep forest green satin blouse, and stilettos that easily brought her close to his own height. Her expensive-looking gold jewelry and hoop earrings seemed to glitter as she turned her head towards the door, and her glossy dark red lips split into a dazzling grin.

"Sunnie! I see you've brought our guest," she said in a low voice like honey, lightly accented and melodic.

"Yep! I'm surprised he fit in my car," the smaller woman chirped as she walked into the room, "You didn't mention how tall he is."

The woman held out a well manicured hand, which Jotaro shook. "My name is Catherine Gupta. I became the regional COO of the Dallas branch of the Speedwagon Foundation a few months ago. It's good to meet you, Dr. Kujo."

"Call me Jotaro," he said, glowering at the door beyond them, "I'm assuming that's where he is?"

Mrs. Gupta nodded. "These newer facilities have several suites, some aboveground, some underground, for various purposes, if needed," she said, "When he came to us, it just made sense to stick him down here, where he is both protected and contained."

"Throwing him in a blender would be preferable," Jotaro grumbled, and Mrs. Gupta laughed lightly.

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the Joestars' history with him," she said, shaking her head a bit, "The Foundation has extensive files on what happened in Britain all those years ago, as well as what you and your group went through. I've reviewed all of these multiple times to understand the situation fully."

"Well if that's the case, why the hell was I only recently informed of… this??" He gestured to the door beyond them, far past trying to hide the venomous rumble in his voice.

She pursed her full lips, "I wanted to tell you sooner, and believe me, I did everything in my power to convince my then-higher ups to let you know, but they were determined to keep it a secret from you and any other members of the Joestar bloodline. I felt that keeping it from you, however, was a moral failing. So I simply took the power I needed to make this happen."

He had to admit, he was impressed. She had said it so matter-of-factly that one might mistake it for an easy task, but he was aware that it almost definitely wasn't. The roiling rage he felt building inside his chest simply from being in proximity to that piece of shit subsided somewhat. "You have my thanks, then," he said quietly, "Does the Don know?"

Having been quiet up until that point, Sunnie shifted and the little frog shaped bell charm jingled, her head cocking to the side curiously. Jotaro took this to mean that she was unaware of his family tree.

"I'm still working on clearing that. I'm sure you're aware that there are a few more hoops to jump through when it comes to navigating our relationship with Passione," Mrs. Gupta chuckled. Hearing the name of the infamous Italian mafia, Sunnie's eyes blew wide and she covered her mouth slightly to whisper, 'yooooooo, what the shit, my dude', before Mrs. Gupta shot her a knowing smirk. "You would have found out soon enough, Sunnie. Just keep it secret for now, especially from him," she looked in the door's direction, and the shorter woman nodded enthusiastically.

"You got it, boss," she said, grinning widely, "Is… is the Don of Passione is a Joestar?"

"Indeed he is," Mrs. Gupta nodded, and Sunnie nearly flailed, whisper-shouting 'yo what the SHIT' again, causing the taller woman to laugh, "Though, I'll let you in on that later."

"Dope," Sunnie giggled, before noticing a tupperware box on one of the tables. "Oh～? And this is?"

"Murgh makhani from Janpreet. He made extra," Mrs. Gupta said warmly, before shooting Jotaro a glance. "My husband," she explained as an afterthought.

"FUCK yeah, tell him I say thanks," Sunnie giggled.

"Will do."

Jotaro had mostly tuned the two women out, however; he was staring at the door, glowering. Mrs. Gupta and Sunnie shared a glance.

"Welllll, I know you don't like him, but here we go. Time to face the music, I guess?" Sunnie said as she turned, her long cardigan following behind her as she nodded her head towards the door.

Mrs. Gupta raised an eyebrow at Jotaro, gesturing for him to go before her. He took a breath and turned to the door, steeling his soul and narrowing his eyes.

It was time to face Dio.

ゴゴゴゴゴ...

(Part 2)

#SunnieD #sunnie writes #SORRY GUYS I'M NOIVUSS

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Time

Summary: The reader has a cleaning tradition that she’s embarrassed for the boys to find out about.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x black!reader

Warnings: Violence and mention of smut

A/N: 2 Dean fics in one week? Who do I think I am???

Ever since you were a child obsessed with fairy tales. Not the Grimm brother versions, but Disney’s family-friendly versions. You had your mother to thank for that. She painted her love story with your father as her own fairy tale.

Your mom came from a family of evil witches, but she didn’t share the same values and wanted to help people instead of harm them. As she told it, she didn’t see a way out until she met her own knight in shining armor, your father. He was a hunter and fell in love with your mom while he hunted her family. She helped him defeat them and they ran off to live their own version of happily ever after.

They both hunted until your mom became pregnant with you, their little princess. Even though, they retired from the hunter lifestyle they taught you all about hunting; they always knew there was a possibility for their past to haunt them. While your dad stuck to teaching you about hunting in particular, your mother taught you the art of witchcraft. “There’s a beauty in magic.” She always said.

Unfortunately, your parents happily ever after didn’t last forever. They were right to worry about their past coming back to haunt them. You came back from a sleepover excited to dress up in your princess ‘rags’, sing Disney songs, and clean up the house with your mom. Instead you found their mauled bodies. The remaining werewolves from a pack they killed came back with a revenge. They even tried to kill you when you discovered the bodies, but due to your extensive training you killed them before they got the chance.

Years later you found yourself and your familiar, Aladdin, hunting and living with the Winchesters. To keep the memory alive of your parents, you kept up your mom’s cleaning tradition. Only thing was you always waited for Sam and Dean to go hunting on their own. You may be a little extra with this tradition, so extra Aladdin refused to participate. Sometimes you’ll cast a spell on some birds and sing with them as if you were Cinderella or Snow White. So, if the boys ever caught you, you would never hear the end of it and be deeply embarrassed.

Currently, you were singing your heart out to Part of Your World and washing the dishes when you heard the clearing of someone’s throat. Turning around you saw a set of hazel and emerald eyes filled with mirth and a pair of poorly hidden smirks. “I thought you two wouldn’t be back til tomorrow?” You asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress and then remembering the bandana a la Cinderella you had on and quickly removing it.

Barely containing his laughter Sam answered you. “You know Dean. Speed limit laws don’t apply to him.” Just as Dean was about to say something, his eyes went wide and zoomed on your shoulder. Raising a hand, he pointed in your direction, “Is that a crab on your shoulder?”

Looking down in fact you saw an annoyed crab glaring at you. In the midst of getting caught, you forgot you turned a reluctant Aladdin into a crab for your Little Mermaid set. “Oops, I’m sorry, Al.” With a wave of your hand you returned your familiar back into his canine form. “Looks like the mutt wasn’t happy being turned into seafood,” Dean muttered as Aladdin stalked off. Your familiar had excellent hearing and growled at the eldest Winchester before returning back to your room.

“Your highness,” Dean bowed before you. Snatching the towel from the sink you balled it up and threw it at Dean’s head.

He caught it instead of letting it hit his face. “Hey, that’s not princess-like,” he reprimanded you. Just to tease him some more you gave Dean the middle finger and he clutched his imaginary pearls.

“What’s up with the Disney routine anyway?” Sam asked, trying to stop you two before y’all got too childish. While you explained the backstory of your cleaning tradition, Sam stood back and mentally shook his head at Dean, who looked at you like a doofus. Sam tried multiple times to get his big brother to admit his feelings for you, but he refused.

Done with your story, you noticed Dean looking at you with that funny face you sometimes catch him with when he thinks you’re not paying attention. “What’s with that stupid look,” you asked him.

Caught off guard, Dean had to quickly come up with an excuse. “Um, I’m just confused about how someone so badass is still obsessed with princesses who always need saving.”

“First of all, me being a badass and loving princesses are not mutually exclusive. Second of all, you must be talking about them older white princesses, because my girls with color didn’t come to play. Tiana, a true boss bitch, Mulan saved a whole country, Pocahontas looked out for her people, and Moana got a whole god together. And third of all, I don’t know why you’re trashing them when you have so much in common with them.”

Dean crossed his arms in disbelief. “Please explain to me how me and a Disney princess are alike.” Chuckling to yourself, you proceeded to explain to Dean. “On the somber note, you have the requirement of at least one dead parent growing up. Sam’s your sidekick, Castiel’s your fairy godmother, Rowena is sorta the wicked witch, just depending on the day, and I’m your knight in shining armor.” Dean couldn’t believe his ears and was about to counter your claim when you interrupted him. “Oh, and you have Rapunzel’s eyes.”

Pointing between him and Sam, Dean responded. “Listen, we don’t need saving that often.” Without saying a word, you cocked and eyebrow and a hip, silently challenging Dean’s claim.

“Ok, you win. I’m a stupid princess, but I’m gonna be Snow White!”

Looking to Sam he had his bitch face while you were confused. He must’ve known why he choose Snow White. You looked to him to ask why and he mouthed ‘You wouldn’t want to know.’ Going against his advisement, you asked Dean why he choose her.

“Because the version I watched, the wicked stepmother was wicked.” His smile suggested it wasn’t the G-rated version you’ve seen before.

With a sway of your hips you walked up to Dean and stared up at him devilishly. “Well, you gotta show me that version. I need to spice up my porn playlist.” Instantly, Dean’s face turned red and Sam off to the side muttered, “You two are perfect for each other.”

You walked off to your room, beginning to sing Kiss the Girl, while leaving the boys in the kitchen dumbfounded. Halfway to your room, you remembered your surprise for Dean. Sticking your head in the kitchen doorway, “Oh, there’s pecan, sweet potato, and apple pie in the oven.” Both boys stared at each other and ran to the oven to get to the treat. Even Sam couldn’t resist your baking.

Back in your room, you found Aladdin in his human form laying in your bed and watching tv. He rolled his eyes as he listened to you sing another Disney song. It wasn’t your voice that he was annoyed by, because you had the voice of an angel, but it was who the song was directed to. Al didn’t understand your attraction to Dean, but he supported you, nonetheless.

“Jordan text you. She needs help with a coven of witches in New Orleans. And she said leave the Winchesters at home if you come,” Al informed you in the middle of your song.

“That would’ve been nice to know earlier. Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I was giving you some time with your precious Winchester.”

Deciding not to address that statement you asked Aladdin if he wanted to go with. “Nope. I got a crazy ass ex down there and I’m having a Smart Guy marathon.”

“Hey! You were supposed to wait for me.” You pouted.

“That was before you turned me into a crustacean.” Knowing that it was fair, you told him bye and went on to tell the boys you were leaving.

“You sure you don’t want us to come?” Sam asked clearly concerned. They didn’t know your friend and were overprotective of you hunting without them. Standing on your toes, you gave each boy a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be fine boys, promise.”

Just as you opened your car door, Dean tugged on your wrist. “Be safe and call us if anything’s fishy.”

Snatching your hand back, you laughed at your friend. “Ok, mom.” Crowding your space, Dean looked at you hungrily. “I preferred to be called daddy.” Cheeks heating up quickly, you turned around and rushed into your car, waving bye to the boys while you heard Dean’s deep chuckle as you drove away.

It was setup. Jordan wasn’t just your friend, but your cousin from your mom’s side of your family. The little traitor knew who you were when you ran into her in Atlanta when you were working a job. She continued to earn your trust until she could find the right moment to kidnap you.

Turns out your mom and dad didn’t get rid of the whole family and your grandma somehow survived. The old woman had been plotting against you, since Jordan told her of your existence.

Struggling against the cuffs, you were looking for an escape. “Its useless, my dear. Those cuffs are spelled to imprison supernatural beings.”

Great, the one time being a witch was a bad thing. “Well, can you just kill me now?”

Your grandma turned away from the potion she was concocting and caressed your face. Her amber eyes that reminded you of your mother’s softened. “Don’t be silly, girl. You’re family, even if that didn’t mean anything to your momma. Our coven is growing weak, but you’re the strongest witch ever in our bloodline. With you joining us and the Book of the Damned we’ll return to our former glory.”

All this trouble for that damn book. Even though it saved Dean, that book has been causing so much trouble ever since it came into you and the boys’ possession. “So, this is why you want me. For the Book of the Damned. Well, newsflash no matter what you do to me the boys won’t give it up.”

Stepping away from her potion once more, she knelt down in front of you. “It’s a shame, really. All your power gone to waste. When Jordan informed me of your existence, I thought I would just kill you, but then you got involved with those Winchesters and we were still too weak to deal with them and you. But then I heard Rowena took you under her wing and I felt hope again. I thought Rowena would surely teach you the dark arts, but once again I was wrong. Those damn Winchesters sure do know how to suck out all the fun.”

“If you know I’m so good, then it’s a waste to try to get me to join the coven.” Levitating the mortar, she used to make the potion, your grandma had it in her hands. “Chile, I know I can’t make you do things on your own free will. That’s why I got this little potion for my spell. It’ll make you more malleable to my will. Now open up, girl.”

Refusing to be anyone’s puppet you shut your mouth close. Your grandma was frustrated with your antics and didn’t have any time to play with you. The cuffs dampened your own magic, which allowed your grandma to use hers and get your mouth open. The vile taste of the potion slithered its way down your throat and you knew when you woke up you would be a different person. Hopefully, Sam and Dean would be able to fix you.

Once you returned to the bunker, the boys instantly knew something was off about despite you saying nothing went wrong with the hunt. “Man, something’s up with Y/N.” Dean whispered to Sam while you were in the library.

“I know. Something had to have gone with that hunt.” Their whispers died down when they heard you walking towards them.

Holding the Book of the Damned, you made a beeline to the stairs, but Sam stopped you. “Y/N/N, what are you doing with the Book of the Damned?”

Annoyed but also prepared for this moment you threw the boys against the wall. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

With a flick of your wrist the door opened up, letting in your grandma and Jordan.

“What a cute little place! We’ll have to set up base here, Y/N. That’s after we kill the Winchesters of course,” your grandmother informed you while inspecting the bunker.

“Yes, grandmother. Would you like me to dispose of them now?”

The elder Winchester scrunched up his face in anger. “Grandma??? Y/N/N this isn’t you. Break out of it!” He pleaded with you, but his words had no effect on you.

“You evil bitch! What did you do to Y/N?” Dean asked your grandma.

She stood in front of Dean and traced a finger across his face. “Hmmm, I can see why my granddaughter is in love with you. Such masculine features, so handsome that you’re almost pretty. And the passion that radiates off of you, hmph, you must be an excellent lover.”

Dean turned his head away to escape her touch. “Get your filthy hands off my brother! And what did you do to our friend,” Sam reminded her of the more pressing issue.

“Oh, I just made her more pliable to my will. The girl is headstrong like her mother. Too bad I didn’t discover the potion I used on Y/N when I had those wolves kill her mother.” Your grandmother revealed which stirred a little something in you, but you must complete the mission for her. “Y/N, be a dear and kill these oafs. We have important work to do,” she ordered you.

Imagining liquefying their insides, the hunters started to cough up their blood, but as you saw them struggling you started to feel bad. Something didn’t feel right, but you had to press on.

“Y/N, you’re in there I know it. I know you heard her. That wicked bitch killed your parents! Come out and fight, damn it!” Dean was screaming at you, it seemed that the emotional torture was more painful than the physical torture you were dishing out.

Seeing that Dean wasn’t getting through to you, Sam joined in at trying to break through to you. With each passing second, they were chipping away through your grandmother’s defenses. It worked well enough for your hold to weaken and the boys fell to the ground. The boys easily incapacitated Jordan, leaving your grandma with no backup.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Kill them!” Your grandmother ordered, terrified of what a free Sam and Dean Winchester could do.

You paid her no mind and pinned her to a wall instead. Dean approached you carefully, as if you were a scared animal backed into a corner. “Sweetheart, I know you’re in there.”

Your eyes darted between your grandmother and the Winchester. You didn’t know who to believe with both of them talking to you simultaneously.

Sensing he was losing you, Dean got desperate. “God, I hope this works,” you heard him murmured before he grabbed your face and mashed his lips to yours. At first, your lips you were stiff, resistant to the kiss, but soon it started feeling right, like home, like your lips and his were meant for each other. Your hands snaked up to the back of his head and you pulled Dean closer.

The screaming of your grandma alerted you and made you and Dean break the kiss. Caressing your face, Dean whispered against your lips, “You back?” He asked, his hopeful searching yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered back blinking through tears.

“I should’ve known. You’re weak, just like your mother!” Your grandma somehow pulled herself halfway off the wall, but you pushed her back.

Taking out your gun from the back of your jeans, you pointed it at an unconscious Jordan and shot it right in the center of her forehead, feeling no emotions for so-called friend.

Next, your sights turned onto your grandma. “What?! You can’t grant me the decency of killing me like a witch? You’re gonna kill me like some filthy hunter?” She screamed with her grey locs falling in her face, spit foaming at the mouth, truly looking like a wild woman.

Raising your gun, you only said a few words to her before granting her the same death as your cousin. “Its more than you granted my parents.”

For awhile you stood above your dead grandmother’s body, grieving the life you could’ve have. Standing there reflecting on her need for power it finally hit you, she was the cause of your parents’ deaths. The emotions overtook you and you cried until Dean carried you away and let him fall asleep in his arms.

Waking up hours later you found Dean gone, but the smell of his famous burgers told you exactly where he was. Making your way to the kitchen, you were granted to the scene of Dean cooking, singing along to an old rock song, swinging his hips.

“Wow, you’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such killer dance moves?” Placing your hand over your heart, you acted as if you were offended at this great tragedy.

Rolling his eyes at you, Dean lowered his music and started to make you a plate. “I can do that.” You attempted to grab the plate, but Dean moved it out of your reach.

“I got it. Go sit down, pretty girl,” Dean ordered you before he leaned down and gave you a kiss. You guessed that the kiss from earlier wasn’t a one-off and discreetly smiled to yourself, wondering what this means for you and Dean.

Taking your seat, Sam entered the kitchen and began making a plate of his own. “Hey, Y/N, how you feeling?”

“Mmmm, better now. It still hurts, but I know that my mom wouldn’t want me to dwell on it too long. She lived the life that she wanted, even if it was cut short.”

“Between Samuel and your grandma, we had some crazy ass grandparents,” Dean referenced to his grandfather that would’ve let them die in exchange to have Mary back. Little did he know if he could’ve waited a couple of more years, he would’ve had her back.

Setting down his plate and yours, the three of you began eating dinner. Talk varied from when y’all would take the next case, when you should visit Jody and the girls again, when would Cas and Jack get back, and even a little argument about how turkey burgers taste the same as regular burgers.

At that moment you were trying to convince Dean to watch The Little Mermaid with you, but he refused, saying he was too grown to be watching fairy tales. Deciding that he wasn’t too grown, Sam poked fun at Dean. “So, Dean, how did you know how to break the spell put on Y/N?” Sam knew the answer, Dean confided it in him earlier, but he wanted Dean to say it in front of Y/N.

Looking at his baby brother as if he could strangle him, Dean dropped his burger. “Lucky guess.” He grunted before picking it back up and biting into it.

Your eyes switched back and forth between the brothers. Obviously, Dean was holding something back by the way he was giving Sam bitch face.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Sam retorted, hiding his smirk by taking a bite of his own burger.

“Oh, Dean, c’mon tell me.” You pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that he couldn’t resist.

“Truelove’skiss.” He mumbled quickly.

Hiding a giggle, you asked him to repeat himself, “Excuse me, what was that?” You knew exactly what he said, you just wanted him to be louder.

“True love’s kiss, ok! Now can we drop it?” He snapped, embarrassed he knew this little fact and that he was basically announcing his feelings to you this way.

Abandoning your seat, you jumped into Dean’s lap and kissed him all around his face. Sam silently left to give you two privacy and also, he didn’t want to see anything if you two decided to get explicit.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered into his ear.

Dean’s eyes lit up as if you told him he had an unlimited amount of pie. He knew that for a true love’s kiss to work, both parties had to love each other, but hearing you say it confirmed it for him. “I love you, too.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you snuggled into Dean deeper. “So, does this mean you’ll watch The Little Mermaid with me?”

“I guess,” Dean accepted defeat as you squealed in his lap. “But only if you sing along. I can’t get enough of that voice of yours.”

“Of course, my knight in shining armor.” Dean put an arm behind your back and the other under your knees to carry you bridal style to his cave.

“And at the end of the night can I kiss the girl?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin on his face, glad that he made at least one reference.

Making your voice a bit softer to sound like a princess, you replied, “Oh my dear sir, you can do whatever you like to the princess. She’s forever in your gratitude.”

“Well, princess, be prepared not to finish that movie, because I got other things in mind.”

Soon, Ariel and her pals became a distant memory with the opportunity of a better time spent with Dean. “If that’s the case, then how about you show me how wicked that stepmother was in Snow White?” You offered, suggestively raising your perfectly arched eyebrows.

With that suggestion, Dean changed his course and headed for his bedroom. “Anything for the lady.” Passing a conversating Sam and Al in the hallway, you conjured up earplugs in their hands. Of course, you could’ve soundproofed the room, but you wanted to gross them out instead.

“Dudes, disgusting!” Sam groaned, but you could barely hear him over yours and Deans’ laughs. This is what happily ever looked like and you wouldn’t trade it for a thing in the world.

Tags: @titty-teetee @nervouspetsonanime @thefaithfulwriter @nerd-lovely

#black!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x black!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom

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