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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

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Chapter 5: An Old Friend

Warnings: this one is mostly fluff, so I don’t think there are any warnings. Maybe references to past trauma? If I’m missing one please lmk!

Author’s Note: Chapter 5!! Enjoy!!

(gif gotten from javierian)

After the little…. predicament with the last mission…. you couldn’t deny that you had gotten closer with the anonymous man you had been living with.

You made pleasant conversation, never too deep, but you felt more comfortable in his company. You had felt the same way with Peli… but this was different.

Your heart rate would increase whenever he would talk to you, and your mood would increase as well. You were excited to get to know him! This man who had taken you in knowing absolutely nothing about you. The least you could do was make him feel comfortable around you, and that didn’t even feel like enough.

It made you happy when he would ask you questions, like “did you enjoy the dinner last night” or “how did you sleep.”

It felt good to have someone be curious and care about you in your present state, not just your past or your abilities. And you loved to ask him questions too.

If you were lucky, he would tell you a story about an old job he did, and those were the best. It was like getting little pieces to a much larger, beautiful puzzle. A puzzle you prayed you would see finished by the end of your time with him.

The best interaction you had, by far, was when he finally ate with you.

It had been a nice day. You guys had stopped for supplies and it felt good to stretch your legs a little bit.

You found a great little food stand that had fresh meat and vegetables, and you knew you could make a delicious meal out of it. You shared your excitement with Mando, who nodded and helped you carry the supplies back to the crest.

Once you made it back and put all the supplies down in the incredibly tiny kitchen, you went to work.

You used amazing spices that you hadn’t tasted in weeks on the meat, and made sure to brown the vegetables in the same pan you used for the meat. That way they would soak up the amazing rendered flavors that the meat left over. After that, you put it all together in a pot and poured savory chicken broth in to mix the flavors.

Your stomach was grumbling at the smell alone.

The kid was hungry too, you could tell by the way he stared at you while you worked, so you made sure to save a hefty serving for him when you poured the meal into serving bowls.

You gave the little guy his serving and set yours right next to his on the dining table. You then carried Mando’s serving to the cockpit to give it to him.

You had an idea…. and you hated how you got your hopes up that he would agree.

You stood behind the pilot’s chair for a moment, until you finally took a deep breath and said, “Dinner is ready.”

Mando spun around in his chair and took the bowl from you.

“This smells amazing. Thank you,” he said and got up to walk to his room. He always ate in there because of his creed, and you felt a pull on your heartstrings every time you would think about him eating all alone. You wanted him with you and the kid. You felt full when you three were together, and Mando eating alone felt like you were leaving him out. You knew what that felt like, and you never wanted to inflict it on others.

This was it. This was the moment.

“Wait,” you said, and he turned back around to you, still holding the bowl in his hands.

Every time he looked at you straight on you felt your nerves creep up your spine and your hands become fidgety. You felt cheesy and stupid. This man was basically your roommate, not some partner you needed to impress.

But why does it feel that way?

“I uh… I was thinking that maybe.. we could figure out a way to eat together? I feel bad that you have to eat alone in your room, so maybe I could.. I don’t know.. turn around? And get the kid to do that as well? If you aren’t comfortable with that I totally get it, I just.. feel really bad that you don’t have anyone to eat with,” you say.

Of course he will say no. Why would he trust someone to just “turn around?” As if they wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse?

Your hopes were sinking every moment he stood in silence, and you weren’t liking your chances.

He looked down at his bowl and then back up at you, and these were the moments you wished he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions. You wanted to see and feel what he was thinking, but he was impenetrable. He was like a stone wall, and you hated it.

He sighed, obviously thinking about what you said, and you just waited. You didn’t want to pressure him anymore. He can make his own decisions, and you can deal with them.

“If I do that,” he says, “you have to swear to me… you won’t turn around. And you won’t let the kid turn either.”

Your eyes widened.

It worked, you think. How the hell did that work?

“I swear Mando. I will not turn around on any circumstance, and I will do everything in my power to keep the kid at bay. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, I will eat with him away from you just to be safe. I promise,” you say and he nods.

“Ok,” he mumbles, and you smile at him. A genuine smile. A smile that says all the things you wish you could say, but are too afraid.

You hoped he wasn’t as good at reading people as you were.

“Ok. Let’s go,” you say and he follows you back to the table.

“Ok kid. You’ve gotta turn around for me ok,” you say to the kid and he babbles something incoherent.

“Thank you for the compliment on the food. I’ve known that recipe for a while,” you say with a giggle while turning his chair around.

You turn yours around as well and grab your bowl to set on your lap.

You and the child are now facing away from Mando, eating your dinner, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your belly slowly becoming more full calms your excitement, until you hear a small hiss and the sound of metal scratching the floor.

It’s off. Mando’s helmet is off.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

He did it. He really trusts me to do this.

You hear the sounds of him eating the soup and you swear this couldn’t get any better.

You go back to eating with a huge grin on your face, and you keep the child in your peripheral vision to make sure he doesn’t turn either.

You had connected with him through the force a couple of times since your first meeting. You had gotten better at reading the little one, and you could see just a faint look of understanding in his body language.

He didn’t waver. He didn’t squirm. He just ate as still as he could, and you were so grateful.

Seriously? This was all it took for the kid to behave, you wondered to yourself

Mando mumbling, “This is really good,” shatters through your thoughts like ice.

Mando’s voice. His true voice, just hit your ears for the first time ever, and you wanted it burned into your brain forever. You never wanted to hear anything different.

It wasn’t just the sound of it, but the feeling. You could hear the gratitude in his voice and it sent chills down your arms.

It was him. His voice. Something no one could ever replicate. It was truly his own.

“Thank you,” you say and take another sip of your soup. Your appetite has basically vanished at this point, and your ears just yearn to hear more.

“I think the kid is enjoying himself,” you say, and you pray you get Mando’s rarest gem of all in its rawest form.

And you do.

He gives a soft chuckle of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says and takes another bite.

If you dropped dead right now, you would die a happy woman.

How do you even iterate what that felt like? What it felt like to hear this big, scary, metallic man give off something so vulnerable to you.

Had other people heard this at all? Maybe not even since he was a child?

Your hands started to shake from the endorphins and you finished your bowl. You took the kid’s bowl as well and placed it inside your own and just sat. Just soaked in this happy moment that you never wanted to end.

If only you knew how big of a smile Mando had on his face behind you.

~~*~~

A few days pass and the energy on the ship is the best it’s ever been.

You had eaten dinner together every day since then, and you wondered how something so simple could make you so….happy.

Mando was at his pilot’s chair (as usual) and he called for you to come to the cockpit.

Luckily it was pretty late, so the kid was passed out.

You made your way to the cockpit and saw that Mando had an image broadcasting from the ship’s holoprojecter. The image was of a man with a darker skin tone and flecks of grey in his hair. He looked like he had been through a lot, as his clothes were slightly tattered and ripped.

“I’d like you to hear this,” Mando said before pressing play.

The man in the image proceeded to explain how ranks of ex- imperial guards were ruling over his city and they needed Mando’s help to take them down. He proposed that Mando return to Nevaro and bring the child as bait, and once they got near the client, Mando would kill him.

The man said that if Mando succeeded, he would have his name cleared in the Guild and he can keep the child.

The clip ended and Mando turned to face you.

“What do you think,” he asked, and you looked to the floor with knit eyebrows, thinking.

“Bringing the child as bait is incredibly risky, but if you trust that man, I don’t see a problem with it. You can take down ex- Imperial guards no problem,” you say, and he nods.

“I’m just confused how you even know that man,” you say.

“He’s… an old friend,” Mando says, and you don’t like the sound of that.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we talked,” he said, and you nodded.

“So… he is saying you get to keep the child if you succeed, but we have had him this whole time?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and he goes to explain how he really got the child, and how he has been being hunted by the Empire this whole time.

Throughout the explanation, you listen intently, nodding and keeping eye contact with Mando.

You would think that the fact that the Empire had been on your tracks the whole time would scare you, but it doesn’t.

It fuels you. You three were pissing the Empire off, and there was nothing you liked doing more.

You felt powerful. Unstoppable. For once you were making them mad, not the other way around. And you liked it.

You are not angry at Mando, not even a little. You feel relieved.

This perfect man who had given you nothing but happiness….wasn’t perfect. You had so many demons, and you found someone who did too. Someone who did something bad for the right reasons. You found a good person, who did the right thing because it was right. He had a good heart rather than an ego, and he let you in on something so precious to him. This child.

And you were not gonna let the galaxy rip him away.

Once he finished, you took a deep breath. You looked at him and smiled.

“You know…I am pretty relieved Mando,” you say, and he cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion.

“I thought you looked like that under the helmet,” you say, gesturing with your head to the sleeping green creature behind you, and you laugh.

Mando’s shoulders relax, and his grip on the arm rests of the pilot’s chair softens.

“Seriously Mando, it’s ok. You did the right thing. 99% of people would have just dumped the kid and left. I am proud of you. I am proud to be on this mission,” you say.

“If saving a baby from the Empire gets me arrested, then by all means let them arrest me.”

Mando’s shoulders shake a little. It probably felt incredible to get this off his chest. He had been keeping this from you for a while.

I wonder if eating with me helped him trust me more?

“Ok,” he breathes out of his helmet. “Good. I was hoping you’d stay.”

“Oh I’m staying alright,” you say and he gives a breathy laugh.

“But this is your decision Mando. I am up for going or staying. I know you understand there are risks in both options,” you say, referring to the offer the man on the recording had given you earlier.

“Whatever you want to do. I trust you,” you say and his head snaps back to make eye contact with you.

You give him a weak smile, and allow what you said to sink through his beskar and into his skin.

I. Trust. You.

After a moment, he turns back to his controls and stares into space.

If you’re being honest, you have no idea what you would choose. If you don’t go, the kid will keep being hunted and at risk. If you do go, that man could betray you and get you all killed.

Mando is in deep thought, as are you, and you jump a little when he starts punching coordinates into the controls.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan?” you ask.

He turns to face back to you, and you can only imagine the cocky smirk he has on his face.

“An old friend.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

#din djarin #mando #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian

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enviedear · 4 years

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miss moonlight, put in a word → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco sees the same annoying hufflepuff he’s enamored within his dreams every night, but can’t muster up the courage to talk to her in waking life. so instead he talks to the moon, telling the rock that’s miles away, everything he wants to tell her. little does he know, she does the same thing.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

its a little angsty im sorry. but im nervous abt this and have been sitting on posting it for almost a month now so please lmk if you like it :)

based off the songs talking to the moon by bruno mars and please mr sun by tommy edwards

she waves at him, her eyes holding a happy glimmer. he walks closer to her and wraps his long arms around her, pulling her close. he breathes in her scent and she giggles. it sounds like heaven. he holds her like that for what feels like forever before she pulls away.

he watches as she sits down in the grass, patting the place beside her.

“sit draco.” she commands. he complies.

“i love it when i’m asleep. you’re here and the world is so much more peaceful.” he smiles, a real true smile. not like the ones he usually gives now.

“but imagine if we were awake. the world might not be so wonderful, but we’d have each other. and the sun. and the wind. and the trees. and missus moon.” she grins, looking up at the bright blue sky.

he wants to agree, and tell her that’s all they’ll ever need. but he knows he can’t. because truth be told he needs more. he needs to know his family will be safe. he needs to know if he’ll make it out of his sixth year alive. he needs more than the sun and moon.

instead, he places his head in her lap, relishing in the way her fingers card through his hair. she sings a song he can’t place as he falls asleep.

“i love you y/n” he whispers, right before he dozes off.

that’s how the dreams usually end. he always slips off to sleep so peacefully in your arms. but when he wakes up, he’s still in the slytherin dorm, lonely and afraid.

yours end in the same way, and when you wake, you’re clutching your pillow as if it’s him. you don’t dare tell anyone about the dreams. your friends and family would think you mad. but it’s enough for you to be able to have them, even if you’re not sure if they’re shared or not.

you see the way he looks in the dining hall, potions, and in passing. he’s always so monotonous. so unlike the boy you’ve grown up with.

you of course have dreams, where he’s told you everything that has happened to him. he’s confessed to you that he’s working with voldemort, for his parents' sake. he even told you about dumbledore. but no matter how much you beg him to leave that life behind, he can't. besides, you’re dreaming all of this. who’s to say it’s even real.

so you stay away, yearning for bedtime. where you can talk to the boy you love more than anything else in the world.

you’re not sure how the dreams started but you have an idea.

and so does draco.

he reckons he must have used some sort of wandless magic the night he was thinking to himself on the astronomy tower. it had been a humid night and he was all alone. his eyes deadset on the bright moon in front of him. he had just started talking.

he knew the moon wasn’t someone that could actually listen but then again, maybe that’s what he wanted? he didn’t want someone to place any input on his situation. he just wanted to speak and let his thoughts travel into the void and maybe out from his aching head.

“i just want everything to be okay. mother deserves a son who can protect her and.. father needs me. i can’t fail. i just wish i had someone to talk to when the sun goes down. someone kind and someone warm. i know they’re somewhere out there. but maybe all i’ll ever have is you missus moon, at night when it’s just the stars to listen in to our conversation.” the boy had mumbled, before making his way to his dorm room.

you had been having a word with missus moon that night as well, alone in your hufflepuff prefect dorm. you thought yourself lucky to have a window so that you could see the stars and the moon. you were fighting sleep and had no one else to speak to, so you watched the bright yellow moon as you recounted your troubles.

“my dreams have been so bad recently missus moon. i think it’s because i’m still so scared for everyone and myself. they say the dark lord could strike any day. i’d hate for anyone i love or even myself to end up like poor cedric. i wish i had someone to talk to, someone to understand. everyone thinks i’m crazy, but they don’t know what i know. the world is getting scary. at least when the stars light up my room i have you missus moon.” you had sighed getting off the floor and laying down in your bed.

that night draco dreamt of flower fields and you. at first, the boy wondered if maybe it was real. it seemed real. he could see you and everything around you so vividly. and the same for you, you made out his platinum hair and could smell his crisp cologne. but when the two of you awoke, you knew it couldn’t be real.

until the next night, where the both of you met again in your dreams.

“are you following me?” you had asked draco.

he narrowed his eyes at you, “how could i follow you into a dream. what a stupid thing to ask.”

“you’re supposed to be nice to me. this is my dream after all.” you had pouted.

draco snorted, “i need to stop drinking tea before bed. i’m having dreams where the people in them think they’re the ones doing the dreaming.”

“but i am the one dreaming! this is my dream. i can control it, watch!” you’d grinned, before commanding a nearby tree to grow apples.

draco’s eyes had widened, “no, this can’t be right.”

you watched as he wished for the tree to grow taller before glaring at you, “smack yourself.”

you glared back at him, “no, but you can shove your fist down your throat if you’re going to be rude.”

draco circled you, “so you don’t have to do what i tell you and neither do i. strange.”

“why would i have to do what you tell me to do in my own dream?” you’d asked.

the boy had shrugged, “maybe it’s not just your dream. maybe it’s mine too.”

that’s the most the two of you ever discussed the shared dreams. after that there wasn’t a need. you both enjoyed them. both of you needed them.

once in study hall you caught draco reading a book about dreams but you didn’t ask him about it. in truth, you were too afraid to have him label you as insane.

draco found himself wanting to speak with you too. countless times. he had grown quite fond of you after the dreams he found you in every night. so in the daytime, he would sneak glances at you. he took notice if you did your hair differently or if your makeup was done. of course, he knew he couldn’t talk to you. you’d think him mad. still, he found himself dropping subtle clues to see if you’d come over to him, like reading a ghastly book about dreams in a class the two of you shared. it hadn’t worked but he could have sworn he caught you looking his way.

draco spends hours obsessing over you, the dreams, and the few glances you would give him. but the vanishing cabinet is almost fixed and he knows it’d be foolish to speak to you now. no matter how much he wishes to run into your arms and tell you to take him away from here, he won’t.

it’s a dreary day in june and you’re getting snacks for some of the first years when you hear it. maniacal laughter and breaking glass. your first thought is to check on your house. you rush into the hufflepuff common room and make sure everyone’s ok and then urge them to stay safe. they nod and bolt to their dorms.

then, you make your way to the source of the noise. the dining hall, which is torn to shreds, is crawling with death eaters. you feel lightheaded as you watch them. out of the corner of your eye, you see professor snape making his way to the astronomy tower.

curious, you quietly sneak behind him, careful not to make yourself known. you hear a voice above you. a voice you recognize.

draco.

you’re trying your hardest to figure out what he’s saying but you can’t. all the sounds around you are blending together and you can’t seem to calm down enough to hear anything. when the professor reaches the tower, underneath the scene of whatever is going on, you stay behind.

in a flash, the teacher is out of your vision and upstairs in the chaos.

“severus, please.” is all you hear before the killing curse bolts out of snape’s mouth.

you stand in shock as the footsteps trail out of the tower. draco. snape. dumbledore. death eaters. it was all so much.

“y/n! are you ok?” a watery-eyed harry potter asks from beside you. you don’t even question how he got here or if he saw what you did. instead, you fling your arms around him and stare at the wall petrified. no tears can escape your eyes, you’re in disbelief.

“come on. you have to breathe and we have to get down there. get your wand ready. we have to do something!” he shouts, voice breaking.

you look at him for a second before he bolts out of the room, wand in hand.

instead of trying to fight, talking to anyone about what you saw, or even going to look at your headmaster’s dead body like everyone else, you slip quietly into your prefects dorm.

you watch the moon until she’s gone and when you see mr sun the tears finally fall. you mumble, “talk to him please, mr sun.”

draco glanced at the blinding sun from the malfoy garden, where he had spent the night. he couldn’t be in that house. not after everything that happened. so instead, he sat in the garden thinking of his best thoughts, you.

he watches the sunrise, listens to the winds and the robins singing, and mutters to himself, “tell her how i feel. it shouldn’t end this way. since you are all her friends, she’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

a baby robin sings a little louder, almost like it’s agreeing, and it causes the boy to cry.

it’s an eerily quiet early morning in the room of requirement on the second of may. you’re in the back of the room, trying to sleep. sleep has become your only form of happiness. your dreams have become a wonderful fairytale. draco is still prevalent and he holds you tighter and tighter with each night.

almost as soon as you drift to bed, you hear gasps. you look up to find harry, ron, and hermione. without a care in the world, you rush to the three just like everyone else. harry gives you a weak smile and you return it.

the three of them explain that today is the day. today is the day the world is split into two and voldemort attacks. plans are arranged and everyone holds each other close.

selfishly, you wish you could see draco.

minutes later, a meeting is called by snape in the dining hall. You watch as neville and ginny procure robes for the green-eyed boy and walk to the hall.

the carrows look at everyone with malice in their eyes as snape drones on about a sighting of harry in hogsmeade. soon after, harry shows himself and begins arguing with the black-haired man. he tells everyone about the night in the astronomy tower.

mcgonagall throws curses at the man along with harry before he flies out of the hall. The woman looks at all of us, eyes wide but determined.

in a rush, everyone is scattered about. you follow neville to the bridge and help as much as you can. when the death eaters, led by greyback, enter hogwarts, you stand your ground. you’re ready to fight.

draco easily locates blaise and goyle before heading off to find his wand and harry potter. his chest aches with looming fear but he tries to repress it the most he can.

“i guess this is it boys.” blaise sighs.

draco looks at his friend, “we’ll be fine. just stay safe and together. don’t go weak on me now zabini.”

you’re doing your best to fight off corban yaxley but every time you’re ready to throw a killing blow his way he narrowly hits you with the killing curse. your fighting in a state of pure unadulterated anger. it’s been hours of fighting but your anger remains.

“stupid little girl, you’ll be dead before nightfall.” yaxley spits before hitting you with a weak spell.

you still double over a bit, but hold your ground enough to raise your wand and hit him with the cruciatus curse. in the corner of your eye you watch professor flintwick begin dueling the vicious man, before running inside the castle.

fire burns everywhere around draco. he’s about to turn to blaise and say his goodbyes before potter snatches him up and leads him out of the room of requirement. the second he’s on the ground he makes a run for it. he loses blaise on the way and can’t seem to figure out where to go. he’s on the second floor, tears are pooling out of his eyes and the ache in his chest has grown when his body collides with another.

you fall back, hitting your head against the hard stone of the castle floor. when you look up, your vision is hazy and shaky.

“y/n?”

you know that voice. it’s the same voice you’ve heard every single night for a year.

“draco?” you ask, hands reaching out.

“you’re bleeding. let me help,” he says before gently healing your head.

you stare at the boy, “you know it feels weird to see you. i’ve never really spoken to you besides the dreams.”

his eyes grow wide, “you know about those?”

you smile a little, “yeah, i do.”

the two of you find yourselves entering the great hall, helping whoever you two can.

draco is comforting a teary-eyed second year when blaise zabini comes in, eyes bloodshot and clutching his right arm.

you watch as the two embrace, pulling apart so that draco can tend to his arm.

minutes that feel like hours pass as the three of you silently process the commotion going on around you.

a tattered luna lovegood emerges through the rubble and towards the three of you.

“everyone’s outside now- harry he... i think you all should come with me.” her shaky voice requests.

draco looks to you and nods, helping you rise. his hand grasps yours and you all follow luna outside.

all around you is destruction. the place you’ve called home for years in now a bruised battleground and at the very center of it stands the man you’ve come to fear more than anything in the world. voldemort.

“harry potter, is dead.” the creature laughs.

you grip draco tighter and he looks at you with an expression of sorrow.

“from this day forth you put your faith in me. and now is the time to declare yourself! come forward and join us. or die.” the man spits, smiling at the broken faces opposite him.”

it is quiet for just a moment before lucius malfoy calls for his son. you watch the man and his wife plead with him. but his hand remains in yours and feet right beside you.

you look up at him and give him your brightest smile, a smile you would give him in dreams. as he peers down at you he knows that nothing in the world means more to him than you and that smile he’s spent hours telling missus moon about.

“you insolent boy, draco!” the snake-like man hisses.

you turn to face him, eyes wide with fury and hate.

neville begins limping toward the band of villains.

“i’d like to say something.” the boys breathes out.

voldemort smirks at him, “well neville i’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“you’re wrong! harry’s heart did beat for us, for all of us!” and with that, he pulls the sword of godric gryffindor out of the sorting hat he’s been clutching and aims it at the deatheaters and their leader.

draco’s head cranes in harry’s direction, and in an instant, the boy flies out of hagrid’s arms and throws a spell at voldemort.

you cry out along with everyone else before watching voldemort’s followers disappear.

“come on, we’ve fought enough. i won’t let you die now!” draco commands, leading you to the bridge.

you follow, but turn to look at the castle one last time. draco stops as well and you see him meet ron and hermione’s gaze. ron nods his head and draco returns the gesture.

“let’s go draco.” you sigh.

he didn’t know he’d see you again. the two of you had gone to your home to bathe and sleep and when the boy found himself in his dreams, he saw you.

you smile at the platinum haired boy, “sit draco.”

he complies.

“i hope you haven’t gotten tired of seeing me. i suppose it will be a lot now. to have me in waking and in sleep.” you giggle.

draco stares at you deeply, “i could never get tired of you. i’ve spent a year talking to the moon, trying to get you. in hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too. i’ve asked the sun to tell you all the things i couldn’t, the wind to whisper all the things i love about you, all the rainbows to make you smile, and the trees to take you under their branches. i’d want nothing more than this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, “i’m here now and we have eternity to tell eachother the things we haven’t said yet.”

the two of you can’t help but to stare at the moon some nights, silently thanking missus moonlight for putting in a word.

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bunnyinthestars · 3 years

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Adrien is definitely gonna take Emilie’s place in a coma (A Theory)

Yeah so I mean the title of this is exactly what I’m pretty sure is gonna happen. This is because there has been a huge load of foreshadowing and some other subtler reasons I will be going over in this post. Of course, there’s always a chance it won’t happen, but if it didn’t I think I’d be pretty surprised considering just the amount of evidence thats going into this.

(Also sorry ahead of time for the structure of this, I tried to structure this based on my specific reasons for this theory but I kind of went off on tangents in some places and in others I use ideas that I assume come with the theory and don’t necessarily fit into any specific reason (like Emilie coming back to life and what would happen there, why Adrien and not Nathalie, and loosely how theyd get Adrien out of the coma), although I mosty stick to the structure I still want to add this disclaimer just so you’re aware that I wrote this in one go at midnight (also wait right now its 12:10am it is now ten minutes into my birthday??? ok ignoring that))

I dont know man. Just consider what I have to say. Or dont. I will be listing my reasons starting now.

1. Imagery of Adrien being in comatose state/ in a coffin-like thing.

This is surprisingly common??? Off the top of my head I can think of Style Queen and Riposte (I believe) which involve this. In Style Queen, Audrey in the form of her akumatized self had essentially kidnapped Adrien and put him in this gold/glass coffin thing that disintegrated the longer it remained untouched. The other one is Riposte, where Ladybug hides Adrien in that big sarcophogus in the Louvre (he didn’t stay in it but still the imagery is there.)

I also just remembered in Chameleon when Lila took Adrien’s form he was asleep/in a comatose state in that locker and Plagg was like “aw man am I gonna have to kiss him.....” but then Adrien wakes up because Lila stole someone else’s form

EDIT: another instance of Adrien/Chat Noir being shoved into a sarcophagus (besides Riposte) is in Pharaoh in season 1

So yes there is definitely a good number of foreshadowing for this. I might take this further and say if Adrien were to go comatose and be in the coffin Emilie was in then Felix might replace him for some amount of time?? Like impersonate him amd stuff?? Just because there’s lots of stuff in the show with impersonation I feel like it could work aNYWAY BACK TO THE EVIDENCE I KNOW ITS A TANGENT

2. Possible evidence foreshadowing Emilie *inadvertantly* killing (not killing but making comatose you get it) Adrien

This one is not as strong as the first but its worth considering. I was googling the word “mayura” just out of curiosity a while back and basically its a peacock in Hindu stories (like peacocks are a kinda revered animal) and I just initially found a couple websites that said that the mayura has been depicted eating a snake as a symbol of the cycle of time (you dont have to read this part in parenthesis, its just kind of a tangent: the cycle of time as known in Hinduism is another aspect of Hinduism directly referenced in the show: the horse/space miraculous kwami Kaalki’s name is a reference to the prophecied tenth avatar/reincarnation of the god Vishnu, and he is referenced in the Kalachakra tantra which is basically a Hindu book about the cycle of time. Keep in mind I got all this from wikipedia and other internet websites, I do not practice Hinduism and I dont directly know anybody who does, so if any of this is wrong pls lmk because there is surprisingly not a lot of information on the internet about it from what I could tell)

So anyways yes peacock (mayura) eating snake representing the cycle of time. Both Luka and Adrien are represented in the show as the snake, but ultimately I think the snake here represents Adrien just because it makes more sense (Snake Noir, future Alix’s tattoo depicts a snake to be Adrien and is meant to represent Adrinette, Adrien just has some shifty stuff going on with the snake in general etc) and thus, if Gabriel manages to actually get the ladybug and black cat miraculouses and make the wish to bring Emilie to life, then this “mayura” analogy (assuming Emilie as the mayura in this scenario) would make sense if her life brought upon Adrien losing his.

The reason I dont think it would refer to Nathalie even though her official name is Mayura is for pretty much two sub-reasons. The first is that I think she is going to die before this wish happens. I know, its a kids show, whatever, but consider it. The Agreste/Graham de Vanily family has a trend of having opposite names [I am so sorry I literally first heard this from a tumblr user but I cannot remember who I just remember they had made a string of theories on why Emilie Agreste will not be who she seems to be so credit to them I did not discover that] for example the name Gabriel means hero/angel, Felix means happy/fortunate, Adrien means dark, etc, and Nathalie Sancoeur means “birthday (of Christ)” and “heartless” respectively. We already know she is not heartless but rather full of heart because she has fallen in love with Gabriel. So then,,,,,,,,,, the opposite of birth is death. She’s already shown to be pretty sick too despite the peacock miraculous having been “fixed” (as of the New York special being the most recent piece of content). I’m sorry guys I do not make the rules

stop why his face look like that though

The second part of why I think this is a little stupid but. The original art released by Jeremy Zag for Mayura does not look like Nathalie. Plus this art was only released under the name of “the Peacock” (originally Le Paon in French) so it might not actually be the Mayura we know as of now. Now, theoretically, it could be that they had made this art before they knew they wanted Nathalie to be Mayura or just as art depicting what Emilie would have been like as the peacock miraculous holder, and it could literally just be Nathalie. When you compare the images, though, the original Mayura art looks far more like Emilie and a lot less like Nathalie. Yes I am aware this is stupid just know this is only a minor point

I dont know man those faces do not look the same to me and the original Mayura definitely had Emilie’s eye shape and face shape in mind. They might’ve changed it after making the concept art but my point still stands

Ok next reasoning

Again not a very strong point but sometimes dialogue just implies things in Miraculous and I can think of a very specific quote that would fit this happening, and there are probably more that I just dont know to look for since I dont have this whole show memorized

So the quote is from Startrain after Gabriel loses control of the akuma then learns about the Startrain having been akumatized with Adrien on board, and he says “hoping that my enemies will save my son..... how ironic.” When I first heard this quote I really, really felt like it was foreshadowing something just based on his tone and the way this new idea was being introduced of him having to be on the same side as Ladynug and Chat Noir for once, even if it was just temporary. This quote absolutely is indicative to me of a future event in which he’ll have to work with his “enemies” to save his son. A situation in which Adrien is in comatose would perfectly align with this. At least for how I would predict the show would make it, Gabriel would have to turn away from Emilie (who represents the past for him, and this action would therefore represent moving on) and join forces with Ladybug/Marinette, his “enemy”, to save Adrien.

Onto the last reason!

Emilie is probably definitely coming back. Which means someone’s going into a coma in her place.

I mean come on it would be so anticlimactic if they just caught Gabe before he fulfilled his wish. Plus with the way they are outlining Emilie to be this perfect golden being is definitely because its going to far contrast with how she will actually turn out. This doesnt really support the Adrien thing in particular but honestly it would also be anticlimactic of the coma was for anyone else. If it was Nathalie, then yeah itd suck for Adrien I guess but like???? Doesn’t really connect the plots as much. Whereas if its Adrien, that brings Marinette into it, that gives her a powerful as heck conflict. Im guessing they would also somehow resolve his coma with “the power of love” mentioned in the theme song, just because of the foreshadowing with like waking someone up with a true love’s kiss (think Plagg in Chameleon, I guess the rose in Style Queen, maybe Alya’s story to Manom in Stormy Weather if we’re strecthing it....)

TL;DR: Adrien is probably gonna go comatose (like Emilie did) at some point because its been pretty foreshadowed (think Style Queen, Riposte, and even Chameleon), because of the legend surrounding the Hindu “mayura” peacock eating a snake representing time (wow that was not a sentence ok then), because Gabriel has previously foreshadowed having to work with his enemies to save his son, and also just because it would be super awesome and allow each character involved to have a pretty fulfilling conflict and arc.

(all images from the miraculous ladybug wiki excluding the piece of art depicting the mayura which is from murugan.org)

I hope however took the time to read this post enjoyed this theory, sometimes I have really random yet detailed theories regarding this show and I wanted to share this one because if I’m right then this will be proof I had predicted it, also you guys could possibly elaborate on it. I’m all for friendly discussions folks fr

If this doesn’t end up happening the theory is still awesome and they should have done it, and if it does my ego will probably expand and hopefully they will make it as awesome as it seems like it would be. Sorry if the structure of this post is not great, but thank you for reading. I appreciate you, have a wonderful week :)

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

Text

say anything

Din Djarin x fem!reader

gif credit to owner

Request: “Congratulations on 100, lovely! For the prompt lists, how about "One Hundred Ways to Say 'I Love You'" #2 and #48 for my man Din Djarin? I love your writing 💗” as requested by @obirain

Description: Traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as The Mandalorian has its risks. However, nobody told you the biggest risk would be having to face your feelings for him.

Word count: ~3.4k how did this get to be so long?

Warnings: some angst, pining, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

A/N: Ahhh Aubrey I really hope you like this!! You know I love you very very much and your fics always blow me away so I hope this is to your enjoyment!! I’m very excited to have written for our love Din! I had this idea for some time now and decided to write it out with these prompts! Originally I put English words of endearment but then accidentally started using words of endearment in Spanish and I sort of rolled with it? Translation(s) down below 😁 Hope you all enjoy, and as always, lmk what you all think (I read everything you guys write, seriously, multiple times)! 🥰

Translations: cariño - sweetie

vida mia - my life

Taglist:

@mcu-padawan @obirain @corellians-only @valkyrieofthehighfae @littlevodika @catsnkooks @hounding-around @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherrykenobi @sacred-things @nobie @anakinswhore

join my taglist!

——

“Hey, put that down!” You reach over to take the canister of homemade paint from the small green hand.

A babble of protest is all you receive as a response.

“I told you we could paint if you didn’t make a mess. That was the deal, remember?”

Another babble. The hands reach out again, wanting to take the canister from you. You pull it out of their reach, giving the baby in front of you a stern look.

“No, no, kid. We’re doing it my way. Got it?”

A squeal serves as a response, and you nod, taking hold of one of the kid’s hands to do what you’d planned on doing.

“Alright, we’re going to dip your little hand here, okay? Then press it on the wood. We do that 5 more times and hopefully it’ll turn out the way I imagined...”

A childish laugh escapes the kid’s mouth as his hand comes in contact with the blue paint. You hold it up, letting some of the excess paint drip from it before placing it on the wood. After a few seconds pressed, you slowly peel away the blue and green hand, revealing three little fingers on the wood piece.

“Yes, that looks great. Good job, cariño.”

He gives you a happy coo in response, and you continue to put his hand in the paint to finish the project. After the last hand print, you take a hold of the wood, six, three-fingered hands creating the image of a blue flower.

“Beautiful. We’ll see if your dad likes it.”

Familiar footsteps come from behind you, and you know their owner can hear your conversation now.

“Might be good to put some color on this ship. Make it more of a home, don’t you think?”

The child coo’s at you, his eyes focused on the blue paint on his hand. He doesn’t understand why you’re saying what you are, but then again, it’s not exactly directed to him.

Wordlessly, the one your words are aimed at passes you, the Razor Crest’s door closing behind him. Once you know his back is to you, you allow your eyes to meet the armored body, traveling up from his boots, to his cape, to the back of the Beskar helmet.

You avert your gaze, focusing again on the child and art supplies before you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, picking up the kid from his awaiting arms.

You take him to wash his hands of the paint, putting the wood to the side to dry and the other supplies in your designated art bag. You hum to yourself, the only noise within the ship besides the quiet lull now that the ship is traveling through hyperspace. After cleaning up the kid, you put him to bed, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

You’ve been traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as the Mandalorian and his adopted kid for some time now. Din, the name he gave you when you’d asked him in a drunken spark of courage, took you in as a traveling companion and babysitter when they’d stopped by your recently destroyed shop on Agamar. It just so happened to be the bounty that Din was after that had destroyed your shop, so after giving him and the child your last salvaged fruit, you’d helped him track down the bounty. And now you’re here, traveling the galaxy together.

You step into the cockpit, notebook in one hand and pencil in the other. As before, without a word, you take the seat next to Din, crossing your legs on the seat and opening your notebook to your latest project. If there’s something that living in Agamar gave you it was time, time to think, to daydream, or in your case, draw your thoughts and dreams. When you joined Din and his kid, you only started drawing more, the different things in the galaxy giving you an endless supply of muses.

But your favorite muse is the one sitting next to you, the one that hadn’t said a word to you since you’d seen him in the morning. As if sensing your thoughts, Din finally speaks.

“Next stop is Pasanna.” The modulated voice is like music to your ears, and you don’t realized how much you’ve been missing it until now.

“For a quarry?”

He shakes his head, look still focused on the controls before him.

“No. I need some parts for the ship, and I know someone there who can sell more durable ones to me.”

You nod, some relief washing over you when you realize Din won’t be in danger. He turns his seat to face you, and the simple view of the front of his helmet makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s warm there. I was thinking, maybe you can take the kid and explore. Visit some shops even.”

It’s warm there. It’s a simple statement to anyone, but to you, it means everything. Agamar is not a warm place, and having spent all your life there, you now prefer warmer climates. And Din knows that.

You can’t stop the smile that makes its way to your face.

“That sounds great, Din. I’d love that.”

“I thought you would,” he says, and you can feel the tips of your ears warm at his words.

Without realizing it, you move your notebook to hide the page you’re working on. Din has seen your drawings before, praised them even. But this drawing, it’s more personal, something you’re not sure you’re ready to share yet.

Thankfully, it seems as if Din doesn’t notice. Instead, his visor is directed towards your face. Even though you’re not able to see his eyes, the eyes you’ve only dreamt about seeing, you can feel his stare.

“You have some paint on your cheek.”

“Oh, I do?” You move your eyes away from him, a flustered mess before him. You bring your hand up to your cheek, trying to wipe away at where you think the paint is.

“Y/N, let me. I’ll do it for you.”

You couldn’t protest if you wanted to, because the moment his hand comes up to take a hold of your cheek you weren’t wiping, you freeze.

It’s not the first time he’s touched you. Living together for the past months meant you’d have to have touched each other before. The occasional brush of hands, the bumping into each other, the helping each other onto the ship after a long day. No, it’s not the first time he’s touched you. But it’s the first time he’s touched you like this.

His gloved thumb swipes at your cheek, once, twice, three times before you’re sure he’s taken the paint off. But his hand remains holding you, almost as if you’d crumble like the dried paint if it pulled away. And honestly, with the way your heart is thumping, that might be the case.

A small sigh escapes your lips, and you try to fight the need to close your eyes, to no avail. Your eyes close lightly, and the feelings you’ve been having for Din come rushing to you. If there’s one thing you know about yourself, it’s that your late night confessions are almost as dangerous as your drunken ones, and right now, you’re treading on thin ice.

“Din...” The name rolls out of your mouth as a plea, and you feel a shiver run down your body. “I...I need to tell you something, Din.”

“I think you need to rest.”

You open your eyes at his words, a small frown making its way to your face.

“But first I have to say something.”

His hand stays on your face, his thumb moving up to rub on the frown of your brows.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Don’t have to say anything? Does that mean he knows?

“Din, I —“

“Please, Y/N, don’t say anything.”

And just like that, it feels as if the once comforting hand burns your skin. You pull your face away, his hand dropping. Before you feel like more of a fool, you get up, closing your notebook and tucking it under your arm.

“Wait, you don’t have to go.” Din makes a move to grab your hand, but you’re out of his reach before he can.

“Goodnight.”

“Y/N...”

You leave the cockpit without another word. You feel your face burn in embarrassment, embarrassment for how vulnerable you allowed yourself to be. Embarrassment for almost telling Din how you feel.

It isn’t until you’re in your cot that you let a few tears roll down your cheeks. You almost told him. Not that it would have any effect. It seems he knows already. But he doesn’t want you to tell him.

You bring your hand up to wipe the wetness of your cheeks. In an attempt to distract your mind, you open your notebook to draw. Only, you open it to the page you’d been working on. And staring back at you is the helmet that fills your day's thoughts. Of course, the moment you want to not think of Din, you open up your sketch of him.

Taking a deep breath, you flip the page, blankness staring back at you instead. Without another thought, you flip back to the drawing, your pencil coming down to continue defining the curve of his helmet. It moves on to sketch the shape of his arms, the flow of his cape, the curve of his boots. Before you know it, you’ve finished the sketch. You’re not going to deny how good it is. It’s so accurate, and all by memory.

I’ve stared at him long enough, I would be surprised if I didn’t sketch this by memory, you think.

You close your eyes and rub them, the tiredness getting to you. Closing the notebook, you tuck it into the bag of your other art supplies, and settle into your bed, letting the darkness of sleep consume you.

~~~

As you feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the feeling. The comfort that comes with the sun’s warmth is one you’ll always cherish. And you’ll always be thankful that Din is the one that introduced you to that comfort.

An excited babble from the kid brings you back from your thoughts. You look over at where he’s following Din in his pod. You can’t help but smile at the sight, the warmth blooming in your chest better than the one coming from the sun. At Din’s insistence, he and the kid had gone to look for the ship parts so that you could get some time to wander the shops alone. That was a little over an hour ago, and now they found you near where you had departed.

You swing the backpack of things you’d bought over your shoulders, walking over to meet them halfway.

“Hey, cariño,” you say, reaching out to grab the little green bundle of joy. A happy giggle is given to you in response, and you pull him close to you.

“He missed his mom.”

You look over at Din, your cheeks burning at his choice of words. His mom. That was the first time you’d been called that.

“Well, I missed him and his dad very much.” Your eyes are focused on the kid, his smile grounding you as you feel the heat travel all the way up to your ears. You’re not looking at Din, you can’t look at him. After last night, you feel as if you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. He doesn’t want you to tell him how you feel, yet, you bring it up again.

Silence is all you receive as a response from him. In a way, you’re thankful for it. At least that way you can concentrate on the baby talk instead.

And that’s how the rest of the walk to the Razor Crest is. You opt to carry the kid, talking with him the whole walk. Din is silent behind the two of you, the only indicator that he’s even there is the sound of his boots trudging in the sand.

Night is beginning to fall, and for how warm it was in the day, the night brings with it a chilling breeze. You’ve decided to stay in Pasanna until the morning. It was your suggestion, telling Din that there was no rush to your next destination, so might as well get some good rest. He’d agreed, little words exchanged between the two of you throughout the day, the tension from whatever that was which happened the night before still evidently present.

You’re sitting in the pilot chair of the Razor Crest. The kid is fast asleep, the day’s exploring having tired him out. You, on the other hand, can’t sleep, your thoughts flying through your mind at hundreds of parsecs per second.

Your eyes wander to the many buttons and switches on the control panel of the ship. You know how to use most of them, Din showing you how to use a feature on nights you’d both find yourselves in the cockpit. Usually, you’d sit in the seat slightly behind him, allowing him to sit in the main seat. But when he wanted to teach you a new feature, he’d let you take his seat, crouching next to you, so close, so patient when you were confused. To be fair, most of the times you were confused were due to him; he distracted you, the proximity never ceasing to take your breath away.

The protagonist of your thoughts is the one who takes you from them. You hear Din walk into the cockpit, the sound of his footsteps instantly catching your attention in the otherwise silent space. Impulsively, you turn to look at him, his visor already set on you.

“Din.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but you nod anyways. Your hands begin to clam up, prompting you to rub your hands on your thighs.

“I had a nice time today. I...I appreciate you choosing to come to Pasanna. The warmth was nice.”

He takes a seat in your usual spot, a sigh heard through his modulator. It’s ironic, in a way. You’re sitting in the pilot’s seat, him in the secondary, but it doesn’t feel like you’re the one in control of the situation. No, it feels like you’re the ship itself, waiting for his directions to tell you where to go from here.

He doesn’t say anything, simply nods as a response. Since you’ve known Din, you’ve never seen him without his helmet on, and you’ve never questioned it. But you’d be lying if you didn’t wish you could see his face right now, the face that you’re sure is more beautiful than the way you could ever imagine it. You wish you could see his expressions to try to decipher his thoughts, know where exactly his eyes are focused on. Is it your forehead? Your nose? Perhaps directly at your eyes?

“I...I picked up a few things for you at the market.”

You blink a few times to once again refocus on the present. Only now do you notice he’s holding something, a rectangular object wrapped in sand brown cloth.

“Oh?” You’re not really sure what else to say, his actions foreign to you.

He gets up to walk to where you’re sitting, crouching in front of you and holding the wrapped object over. You take it from him, curiosity filling you at the anticipation of what this is. Your fingers unwrap the lightly bound cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. You look up at Din, and at his nod, you move to open it. At the contents inside, you gasp. Within the box, there are paint brushes, beautifully crafted ones of different sizes. And next to the brushes are a few small pots of paint. Real paint. Not the homemade one that you’ve been making work. No, this is real paint and it’s yours...

“It reminded me of you.”

At his words, you look up to meet his visor again. Now you really wish you could see his eyes. Try to get some idea as to what he’s thinking, where he’s looking. Is he looking at the confusion written on your face? Is he looking at the way your eyes suddenly feel wet with emotion? Is he looking at the faint frown of your brow?

Turns out he’s looking at your lips. They’re slightly parted, the absence of words leaving them in a waiting state. His gloved hand comes to take a hold of your chin, thumb swiping your bottom lip. All air leaves your lungs, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips to try to ease the dryness of mouth you’re experiencing. You hear Din let out a small groan at your actions, the sound only making your heartbeat speed up even more.

“I’ve seen your drawings.”

At his words, you feel heat rush up to your face. Has he seen the ones you’ve drawn of him?

“Have you seen…” You can’t even bring yourself to ask the question.

He nods. “The ones of me? I have seen them. You’re not the best at being discreet about it, you know?”

“Well, with such a beautiful muse, can you judge me?” You don’t realize what you’ve said until the words are out of your mouth. “Din…I—“

“Y/N, about last night—”

“You d-don’t have to say anything.” You try to repeat his words from the night before with the same coolness he’d said them, but find you can’t with the way he makes you feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, sighing lightly. His thumb comes up to touch your lip again, staying on it this time. “I’m just...I don’t know what this is. I’m not good with words, you know that. I just need you to know I care about you, I have for a long time. And I need you in my life. You and the kid, you’re all that matters to me.”

Taking a shaky breath, you bring your hands up to grab the one he’s holding your face with. Slowly, as if you’d frighten him with faster movements, you bring his hand away from your face, taking a hold of the glove and peeling it off his hand. Closing your eyes, you bring his hand up to your lips, kissing each finger. His thumb, his index, his middle, his ring, his pinky. Then you kiss his knuckles, again, one at a time. You don’t open your eyes until you’re done, meeting his visor staring back at you.

“I love you, Din, mi vida.”

And indeed he is your life. Him and the kid, just like he’d said.

“Close your eyes again.”

You do as he says, eyes closing but not letting go of his hand. He moves it away from you, putting your hands on your lap and bringing his up to cover your eyes. You hear the sound of something being placed on the ground, and before you can ask what it is, you feel lips connect with your own. They’re soft, warm. They’re Din’s.

He kisses you softly, and you can feel the caution behind it. He’s being careful, waiting to see how you react.

You can’t get enough of the feeling. Your hands fly up to take a hold of his head, bringing him closer to you and causing him to kneel instead of crouch. Din groans softly at your eagerness, his other hand coming to take a hold of your thigh. His large hand rubs up and down, all while your fingers comb through his hair.

His hair. His lips. You’re feeling what you never thought you would. And it feels so right.

The thought alone makes the fire burning inside you grow, and before you know it, you’re nipping lightly at his bottom lip. Another groan escapes Din, his hand on your thigh squeezing lightly. It’s your need for air that causes you to pull away, your eyes still shut tightly under his hand.

You wait there, heart beating, face warm, swollen lips tingling. When Din removes his hand from your eyes, you keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see anything he doesn’t want to show.

“You can open your eyes, sweet girl.”

You do, eyes meeting with the familiar visor once again. You can’t help but smile, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

That night, you sleep in Din’s cot with him. It’s small, and definitely not meant for two people. But it’s the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

put a ring on it 03 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 11k 🤪

warnings: rlly none! hectic families, stupid pet names, uncomfy emotions, compromising positions. also dont any of u dare get as close to another human as is depicted here anytime soon. pls flatten the curve. social distancing is cool i swear.

a/n: lmao remember on part 2 when i said i wouldn’t take as long to update this time? here we are, almost exactly a year later, even tho i wrote 8k words of this in the past couple days. enjoy!!! better late than never ig.

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @abovethyfold - lmk if you want to be added; sorry if i missed anyone!!

Philip had brought you coffee without you asking.

It was mid-morning after your shower; the carpet of Philip's room was soft under your feet as you grabbed your phone off the marble countertop of his sink, just enjoying the peaceful silence. You scrolled briefly through your texts, smiling as you declined an offer for a manufactured emergency from Patsy (not before you seriously considered it, though). You slid it into your back pocket before padding down the stairs to find wherever Philip had gotten off to.

And thus, you were met with the distinctly strong smell of coffee.

Your footsteps stalled only a moment. You furrowed your brow; the corners of your lips quirked as you continued into his kitchen. You found him sitting at the end of the table opposite where you stood, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from a paper cup. Your smile grew as he didn't even realize you were there; you leaned forward, resting on the chair nearest you as you bit your lip.

"Hey." Your voice was soft as he looked up, giving you a soft smile as he met your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he hummed, taking another sip from his cup as he eyed you, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well." Your yawn came through in your voice despite your words, and he nodded, averting his eyes back to his paper. Neither of you dared mention how you'd woken up tangled in each other, your legs intertwined with his, hands in his hair and with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, your head against his bare chest. Instead, you broke the silence with, "So, you gonna share any of that coffee with me, Hamilton? Or were you just gonna ignore these bags under my eyes?"

You pointed to yourself with mock annoyance, and he chuckled, putting down the newspaper. "What, you don't think I picked up anything for my girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes, slumping into the seat opposite him.

"Oh yeah? What'd you get me?" Your tone was flat as you pinned him with a skeptical stare. He only grinned, leaning back and grabbing another paper cup from the counter behind him. You raised your eyebrows, eyes widening in the slightest. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock to you, but you couldn't help your surprise at the gesture.

He chuckled at your expression. "I can't believe you'd underestimate me like this." He put a hand on his heart with a mock pout as he passed the coffee across the table to you, and you took a seat, rolling your eyes.

"What's the catch?" you asked dryly.

"Does there have to be a catch?"

"Last time you brought me coffee I ended up here." You raised your eyebrows, looking at him knowingly, and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I get it. Point made." He grinned as he reached again behind him, grabbing a small brown bag and holding it out to you by its rolled opening. "But I brought you a croissant to make up for it."

Your eyebrows shot up when you saw the other bag, eyes widening in the least. "Coffee and food? Now there's definitely something up." You shot him a questioning look, and his obvious self-content didn't waver.

"Think of it as a "thank you'." Your skepticism far from dissipated, but something in the soft smile he wore made you take the bag from him with no further questions, a soft smile of your own gracing your lips.

You breathed in the warm, sweet air from the bag as you opened it, sighing at the smell of the croissant. As you broke a piece of it off, you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "So anyway, where's your family? House seems eerily empty."

He chuckled, raking a hand through his loose curls. "Yeah, it is. My siblings are all still at school for the next couple hours, and Mom and Pops are out getting breakfast with the Lafayettes. Said something about wanting to 'give the happy couple some time to themselves'."

You rolled your eyes. "So no one else is home?"

"So we're finally alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you scoffed.

"Just 'cause you brought me a croissant doesn't mean I'm about to jump your bones, Hamilton. Don't get your hopes up," you informed him dryly, but his amused grin didn't waver.

"Since we have the day free, though," he continued just as brightly, ignoring your unimpressed expression, "I figured I'd show you around the town a little, take you a few of the places I used to go."

You raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? I'm getting the grand tour?" A smile had at that point worked it's way back into your expression, sitting slightly lopsided as it played at your lips, though you tried to contain it. "Where are you gonna take me, Hamilton?"

His grin grew at your words, taking another sip of his coffee to hide his self-content. "You'll see."

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

"Where are we going?" you groaned as he tugged you around another corner in the quaint downtown of his small city. His grin never faltered; he seemed very much to have a set agenda. There were people and places he wanted to see. Seeing as this was his family reunion weekend, you couldn't have blamed him.

"C'mon, we're on the block now," he assured you, pulling you along in his haste to find the little storefront, wondering if it had yet changed the aging display in its frosted glass windows. You scoffed audibly, and he let out a little laugh. "What, don't believe me?"

"You'll forgive me for not trusting the eighth time you've told me we were almost there," you said dryly, letting him pull you along regardless. He shot you a look over his shoulder.

"No need to exaggerate, princess."

"Don't think I haven't been counting, Hamilton," you shot back, giving him a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Just come on."

You (grudgingly) allowed him to drag you along three more blocks, unsure what had overtaken you -- your feet were getting sore, your stomach was starting to cramp (you needed to work out more), and you really just wanted to sit down. Yet, something about how earnestly excited Philip was managed to keep you going, just a few more yards, just a few more yards. You tried to ignore the lopsided grin thrown over his shoulder and the teasing lilt to his voice that met your complaints.

"Here we are." He skidded to a halt in front of three stairs, a stone stoop, leading up to a glass door. You raised an eyebrow, turned your gaze to him.

"Where, exactly?"

His smile grew, and he nodded forward. "See for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as you followed him up, and he reached for the handle just before you, holding it open. You didn't acknowledge the action, just continued forward into the small shop.

It was an adorable space, dimly lit and colorful. Leafy plants spilled over from pots above the windows, contrasting with the bright red window frames on the sunny morning, interspersed with framed photos and paintings packed tightly together on the limited wall space. Soft guitar music drifted through under the buzz of chattering customers who'd arrived for their morning coffee. You could smell the coffee brewing behind the counter, the scent mixing with the sweeter one wafting from the ovens behind a swinging door.

"C'mon." You yelped in surprise as Philip's arm found its way around your waist, and he shot you an amused glance. You let him lead you forward, though, fighting the heat that began to rise in the back of your neck.

You neared the back of the store together, your gaze still wandering around the adorable coffee shop as you walked, and as the woman behind the counter caught sight of you, her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Philip!" She dropped the rag she'd been wiping her hands with onto the counter, rushing out from behind it to greet him as his arm came back around from your waist, instead pulling her into a tight embrace. You sighed internally as his warmth left your side.

"Hey, Aunt Maria," he said, grinning as he pulled back from the hug. "How've you been?"

"Worse without you," she scolded, whacking his chest lightly. "It's been what, four years since you've been home? Felt like an eternity."

He laughed, eyes still shining as he spoke to her. "Yeah, it's been too long. I've just been so busy."

Maria scoffed and promptly turned her attention to you, clearly not caring for any excuses for Philip's absence. "And who is this?"

“I’m Y/N,” you started, your smile unsure. At this, Philip also turned his gaze back to where you stood, grin growing on his face. “His girlfriend.”

Her face lit up again at this, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, you're the pretty thing I've been hearing about from Philip's parents for so long? It's so great to meet you."

You laughed as she finally pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess that must be me, unless there's another woman, hm?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, grinning, and he just rolled his eyes. "It's good to meet you too, though."

Philip rested a hand on Maria's shoulder as she released your forearms, an affectionate look in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Aunt Maria's an old family friend, Y/N. Pops helped her out of a tough spot when I was younger, and we’ve forced her to stick around with us ever since."

She smiled, putting a hand on his as she looked over at you. "I owe the Hamiltons big. They really changed my life a while back, helped me get away from my ex-husband, start a new life on my own. Can't thank them enough, honestly."

Philip rolled his eyes at that, giving a dramatic huff. "You owe us nothing. You’re all we need."

"Then stop spending so much time in the city!" she lectured him, giving a shell of a glare, and he laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She glanced back at the counter over her shoulder, where her employees were still diligently taking orders, making coffee. "Anyway, I've gotta get back to work, but can I get you two a cup of coffee? Donuts? Crêpes?"

Philip looked at you as he came back around, pulled you softly to his side with an arm around your waist and a raised eyebrow. You gave Maria a warm smile.

"Just a coffee would be great."

"Same for me, then," Philip added, and Maria winked at the two of you as she made her way back to the counter.

"Two coffees coming right up for the happy couple. Feel free to have a seat anywhere," she called to you over her shoulder, and you grinned.

"Wanna sit down?" Philip asked, and you pursed your lips, pinching the hand that was squeezing your waist. He yelped, withdrew his arm from you with a wince, and you nodded and gave an easy smile.

"Let's go by the window."

He rolled his eyes as he followed you. You slid comfortably into one of the smooth wooden seats, glancing out at the sunny morning before you, and he sat across, an eyebrow raised.

"So, what do you think of my hometown so far?"

You looked back at him wearing a soft, mischievous smile and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna know?"

He fixed his stare on yours, and your grin grew (though you tried to suppress it). "Yeah."

"It'd be better without you here."

He scoffed loudly at that, turning his head from where he had sat facing you, his grin near indistinguishable in his indignant expression, and you couldn't suppress your full-bodied laugh at his reaction.

"C'mon, really?" While he tried to maintain his scowl, turning back to you had his smile widening at your repressed giggles. He fixed a glare over his gaze as you tried to swallow your grin. "God damn, I ask you a legitimate question, and you can't resist ripping on me?"

"It was just too easy!" you defended, brushing your hair away from your face as you looked sheepishly back at where he sat, shaking his head. "Honestly, though?"

"I dunno, am I gonna get an honest answer?"

You knew very well his skeptical expression was well-earned, and you grinned, rolling your eyes as you defended yourself. "Yes!"

He shrugged, motioning to the space between you, a silent go-ahead. You sighed.

"It's really nice." You glanced around the coffee shop as you spoke, your eyes ultimately finding his again, though now a dreamy look was painted across your features. "It's... homey."

"'Homey'?" he repeated your answer with a breathy laugh, and you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving the arm he had resting on the table.

"See, this is why I don't take your questions seriously, Hamilton," you scowled, feeling your face begin to grow hot at his reaction. "Give you an answer and you just make fun of me."

He chuckled as he reached for your hands, still resting on the table as the heat did not subside from the back of your neck. He took them in his, enveloping them as he gave you a simper. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not trying to tease you." His simper turned to a mocking pout, and you scoffed, rolled your eyes.

"Oh, whatever, Hamilton." You didn't pull your hands out of his grasp, though, refusing out of sheer spite to meet his eyes.

"I'm not kidding!" he defended himself, and you could see out of the corner of your eye the grin return to his face, seemingly entertained by your reaction. You were a bit preoccupied, though, with inhibiting the blush from your cheeks as you couldn't seem to focus on anything other than, God, how warm his hands were. You were painstakingly aware of every time they shifted against yours.

"'M glad you feel at home in my old town." Your annoyed gaze was still fixed on the table before you as you heard him let out a sigh, dropping his face to break your line of vision. "Princess?"

"Don't call me that, Hamilton."

He deadpanned. "Y/N."

You met his eyes with an expectant look, and for a moment, you just held his stare, almost didn't notice when your breath caught as the corners of his lips quirked upward. You frowned.

His grin only grew at your adverse reaction, breath coming out in a puff of laughter. He shook his head, tongue in cheek. "Loosen up."

The way he squeezed your hands reminded you how close the proximity between the two of you was. You could feel your heart jump in your chest. When his thumb smoothed over your knuckle, you felt suddenly very self-conscious about how sweaty your hands were.

You took a deep breath, feeling unable to hold his gaze any longer, looking out the window beside you. Thankfully, Maria chose that exact moment to arrive with your drinks.

"Two black coffees, right up!" You froze when you met her beaming expression, flinching as you almost tried to yank your hands from Philip's, feeling like a deer in headlights. He squeezed your hands softly, his expression concerned at how panicked you looked. You plastered on a smile, reminding yourself as your face heated up that you were there as his girlfriend, this was supposed to be normal, it was expected. What made you uncomfortable was exactly how normal it felt.

"Thanks, Maria." You withdrew your hands with a smile to take your coffee from her. You ignored her raised eyebrow, her pleased half-smile.

"You sure there's nothing else I can get you?" The maternal look in her eyes turned playful as she folded her arms. "Anything else to drink? Some lunch?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Some privacy?"

You choked on the long sip of coffee you'd been taking, trying to catch your breath as Philip just laughed. You set the mug down as you coughed into the back of your hand, trying to stifle it.

"I think this'll be all for now," he said, "We probably aren't gonna loiter too much longer, don't worry."

Maria gave him a warm smile, a smile you only caught a glimpse of as you emerged from your coughing fit. (You also caught a glimpse of Philip suppressing a laugh at you, and made a mental note to chew him out for it later on.)

"You know you could spend forever here and I wouldn't mind."

"I know." You couldn't help but notice that his smile in return didn't quite meet his eyes; something melancholy lay behind them as well.

As she pursed her lips, you thought her expression looked quite a bit like your mother's when you left for college, almost tearing up, but holding it together for you. "Well, let me know before you all leave," she said softly, "You know I don't see enough of you around here as is."

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow, though? At the reunion?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The quiet sadness in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and she reached down to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. "Looking forward to seeing the both of you there." Her wink before she turned away was blatant. You couldn't help your soft smile.

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

"So, when do I get to meet the rest of your family?" He'd taken you out through the middle of town, refusing to let on to your destination. It was a nice day out, luckily for you, but you still weren't fond of having to reach all your destinations on foot -- if you'd wanted a walking tour, you'd have asked.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the sidewalk, appreciating the lush greenery that lined the streets, and your gaze rested on his faraway expression as you raised an eyebrow.

"Dunno. Whenever my siblings get home. Angie'll be coming in before they all get outta school, so she might even be there when we get back, but the rest of them have classes for a few more hours."

"'The rest of them'? How many siblings do you have, Hamilton?"

"Just six."

"Six?!" you repeated, eyes wide, and he just nodded.

"Yeah. The youngest is four, that's Eliza, and I'm the oldest."

"How old are the others?"

He pursed his lips, as though deep in thought, and you really couldn't imagine having to strain to remember a sibling's age. "There's William, at seven, then John, who's eleven, James is fifteen and Alex is seventeen -- they're the ones in high school right now -- and then there's Angelica, who's nineteen."

You couldn't help but let out a low whistle at that. "Sounds exhausting for your parents."

"Really. I was the easy child, and it was all downhill from there." He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"You were the easy child? Tell me why I find that hard to believe." Your challenging tone just made him shrug.

"Dunno, princess. I've just always been so responsible that my parents had an easy time with me."

"And at what point did you lose the responsibility trait?"

"I mean, when I found out I could pawn off all my responsibilities onto you..." He trailed off with a grin, laughing when he saw your glare. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding."

"What, about being responsible? Or about pawning your responsibilities off on me?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he shrugged. "Because we both know it's not the latter."

"Hey, let's not forget that you're here because you didn't wanna take on a responsibility."

"A responsibility you pawned off on me!" You scoffed, and his amused smile only grew, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked alongside him.

"Why must you be so focused on pointing fingers, Y/N?"

"I'm not pointing fingers, you just--"

"We're here." You skidded to a halt as he cut off your rant at it's beginning, too absorbed in your argument (despite how obviously he was baiting you) to have realized he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face exactly what he was looking at, and while he began walking in without a second thought, you paused a moment, taking it in.

What stood before you was the oldest building you'd seen so far in town, its structure essentially in ruins, ivy crawling up the eroding brick, moss running down it. The only thing that tipped you off to the fact that you weren't being lead to a remote location where no one could hear your screams was a small metal sign above a descending staircase, a single light above the path. By the time the full sight had processed, Philip had since reached the staircase and was watching your reaction with an eyebrow raised, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"You coming?"

You exhaled. "See, I'm not trying to make any accusations, but all I'm saying is that if I were to murder someone in this town, this would be the place for it."

You followed him, though, as he grinned at your hesitance, and what you found at the bottom of the staircase was far from what you'd expected. You entered behind Philip into a sleek but old-fashioned bar, somehow teetering on the line between an antiquated tavern and a nightclub. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the place, empty at the moment, save one person standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses. The chairs were up on the tables, the televisions were shut down -- you assumed Philip hadn't brought you there for drinks, but instead for the handsome stranger who had just caught Philip's eye with a growing grin.

"Philip Hamilton?" he called out the moment the door shut behind us, his disbelieving smile echoed in Philip's reaction. "Never thought I'd see the day. Thought you'd abandoned us all for city living by now."

Philip let out a huff of laughter as he reached the counter, pulling the man in for a hug over the bar. "Whatever, man. I don't wanna hear it." He pulled back with a skeptical look in his eye, holding him by the forearms. "It's been two years since I've been home, but I've never gone three damn months without seeing you since college."

"Touché. It's good to have you back." With that, though, the man's gaze flickered over to you, eyeing your form with an eyebrow raised, a small but triumphant smile. "But you've still managed to keep your lady from me ever since you and her got together. Afraid I was gonna steal her?"

"More afraid she'd meet my friends and immediately run for the hills," Philip snorted, causing the other man to shove him lightly from across the counter.

"Anyway, I take it you're Y/N?" He seemed to be ignoring Philip's jab at him in favor of redirecting the conversation from him.

"That'd be me," you said as you went to join Philip, smile wary and your hands tucked in your pockets.

When you reached the bar, he narrowed his eyes, leaning down to eye you skeptically. "Tell me, how much is Philip paying you? Hm?" Your eyebrows shot up, and he continued, "I mean, we both know he has the money to be battin' above his league, but I didn't think he'd be willing to fork over that much just for a weekend."

While his manner had you hesitant at first, his words made you laugh. If this was what Philip's friends were like, the weekend might go by quicker than you'd expected.

"This is actually pro bono," you sighed, raising your eyebrows as though you were confiding in him. "I've always been a bit of a philanthropist, so I took pity and decided to help out the less fortunate--" You gave Philip a pointed look, though he just rolled his eyes. His entertained smile betrayed his feigned annoyance. "--for a few days."

"You really are a saint."

"I consider myself more of a martyr." While his friend laughed, Philip raised an eyebrow at you, expression toeing the line between amused and exasperated. You extended your hand. "It's great to meet you, though, um..."

"Georges Lafayette," he supplied, shaking your hand. "I'm an old friend."

"Ahh, so that's you," you folded your arms, smile growing. You stole a glance to your right, and Philip was busy feigning shock that you'd actually listened to his friends-and-family crash course. When he met your gaze, you rolled your eyes. "Philip speaks fondly of you, regardless of how he may speak to you." There was a teasing lilt to the tail end of your sentence, and while Philip scoffed, Georges cracked a grin.

"Hope he's been doing me justice." He sent you a wink as he went back to wiping down the rims of the glasses that sat before him, pulling them from the dishwasher and shelving them. "Knowing him, I'm betting it's nothing compared to how he talks about you, though. Ever since you joined his office, it's been nonstop."

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, but he didn't meet your eyes as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

"You'd better bet. You've become something of a household name these past few years."

"Should that worry me?" you teased, electing to sit as well. You hopped up onto the barstool.

"Not this time." He chuckled, nudging Philip where he sat, leaning forward on the bar. "Worried me at the start of the whole thing. I figured he'd immediately fucked this up." He motioned between the two of you. "By the time you got together, I'd already found him three eligible rebounds."

"Aww, babe." You plastered on a teasingly contrived pout, turning to rest a hand on Philip's knee, meeting his unimpressed gaze. "Maybe if you hadn't spent three years pawning your responsibilities off on me, I would've been more receptive to your total lack of tact."

Georges laughed, and you grinned unabashedly as Philip let out a huff devoid of annoyance. "Oh, c'mon; let's not pretend I was the tactless one." The corner of his lips twitched as you raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now, be honest." You hadn't the slightest clue where this was going, and Philip looked increasingly satisfied with your expression. "You were the one always yelling at me for leaving early, chewing me out for showing up late, finding excuses to come talk to me--"

"We work together," you interjected, unimpressed. Your words didn't seem to hinder his monologue.

"Now that I think about it, is that why you always looked so agitated when Theo came around?" He raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased, and you ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You chalked it up to annoyance. “I’ve gotta say, jealousy actually is a good look on you.”

"Whatever," you scoffed. "I had to come to talk to you about the projects I was working on because they were the ones you pawned off onto me. And you know Theo has been obnoxious since day one."

He laughed, disregarding your vexation. "I mean, yeah, but she brings me coffee."

You narrowed your eyes, genuinely in disbelief. "Is the fact that you're just using her for coffee supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course." He shrugged, as though it was obvious, and you caught Georges's amused expression out of the corner of your eye. Philip winked. "You know I've only got eyes for you, princess." You groaned, turning away from him in your chair, not wanting to look at the satisfaction you caught dancing in his eyes. You didn't like how consoled you felt.

You turned to Georges, deadpan. "Has he always been this unbearable? Or did that develop after the manipulative streak kicked in?"

"In our Philip? What manipulative streak?" He furrowed his brow in contrived disbelief. The two men shared a look, their smiles mirroring one another. "But if you wanna know if he's always been this tactful, then for sure."

It appeared Georges had decided to take Philip's side on this one. You groaned internally. "Don't you start now!"

"Sorry, Y/N, Philip claimed my loyalty years ago. You're on your own."

You pinned the pair of them with an accusatory stare, a smile playing on your lips nonetheless. You didn't love that it was turned against you, but you couldn't help but find their rapport entertaining. "You two are insufferable, you know that?"

"We've heard." Georges shrugged.

"Usually from each other," Philip chimed in.

"Or your siblings." Georges glanced at Philip. Neither of them was addressing you anymore.

"Or your ladies," Philip shot back, "Usually your exes by the time we heard it."

"We were always a little hard of hearing, huh?"

"Always. Think we heard that one from Emilie, though." Philip raised his eyebrows, gaze playful. You could only assume that was one of Georges's exes. He huffed.

"You leave my wife outta this!" Indignant was the only word you could use to describe his expression, and Philip snickered as he ducked away from the rag Georges had tried to hit him with.

"You're still lucky she took you back after that."

"She loved me too much not to." He looked smug with that, but his voice had softened. "Anyway, it's your girl we're talking about this time, so you'd better tread carefully. Right, Y/N?" He looked over at you, an eyebrow raised, obviously expecting you to jump on the chance to tease Philip. You folded your arms.

"Oh, so now you're on my side?"

Philip grinned, obviously pleased with your response, whereas Georges groaned. "Hey, I'm tryna balance the scales back out, alright? Didn't wanna let Philip get too cocky, but it looks like you let that one happen anyway."

"Don't you blame me!" You jabbed your finger at him, eyes narrowed. "You took his side first; I didn't take his side at all!"

"Sure seems like you're on his side now." Georges raised his eyebrows at Philip, who looked positively smug.

"I'm against you now. This isn't about him."

He laughed. "Tough. Looks like your girl's already cutting you out, Pip."

Philip's face fell as he grumbled, "Don't call me--"

"You call him Pip?" You hoped your expression came off as endeared. Blatantly finding ways to antagonize him didn't seem like it would've fit your role. "That's adorable!"

"Y/N." His tone was warning. Your grin didn't falter.

"Oh, can I steal that?"

"All yours."

You let out a soft aww, a hand held to your heart, and put your other hand on Georges's forearm. "I can't thank you enough."

Philip stood with a huff, seemingly having had enough of you two. You raised an eyebrow -- were you leaving already? "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said, annoyed gaze never breaking from Georges's. "Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I dunno, Pip; I was never the responsible one." Georges shrugged innocently, and Philip couldn't seem to help his amusement at his antics. "Do my best, though."

"Can't thank you enough," Philip mocked you to Georges as he turned, walking off toward the back.

Georges called after him, "You're welcome!"

Philip didn't respond, but Georges seemed more amused given that. He turned to you with a grin, leaning on the bar.

"So, Y/N." You raised an eyebrow. "I need to hear more about you; Philip's been holding out on us all these years. Took the entire family to even convince him to bring you home to meet us."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention how long it took him to convince me to come here, huh?" The words were truer than he knew; however, he interpreted them very differently from the truth. You raised a playful eyebrow, and he laughed.

"That's tough."

"You asked."

"Sort of," he corrected you, brow furrowed, and you grinned.

"No, but really," you started, deciding to actually explain yourself. "We've just been busy, couldn't find a time to get down here together."

"Oh yeah? Been getting a little too busy down in NYC?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" You swatted at his arm, coaxing a laugh from him. "Our schedules just didn't line up. We never had the same weeks or weekends free to get out of the city."

"So this is your first time traveling together?"

"Guess so."

"Try not to kill him before the weekend's up." He winked. You kept quiet; Georges didn't need to know quite how high the odds of that happening really were. "But really, enough about him. Where are you from? Where'd you go to school? When are you and Philip getting married?"

You ignored the last question altogether, knowing that reacting to it one way or another would only encourage him. "I'm from the west coast. I was born just outside of LA, moved later on to Chicago, and then came to New York City for college."

"Yeah? What made you choose NYC?"

"My ex, actually."

"Oh, really?" He looked surprised at that tidbit of information, and you tried to just shrug it off. "Must've been pretty serious then, huh?"

"It was." He noticed how quiet you went at that, and he didn't press the point, deciding instead to change the subject.

"So Philip must've been a pretty good rebound?" He nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"He..." You paused, considering how you were supposed to respond to that. "He's definitely exceeded expectations, to be perfectly honest."

"Hmm, I dunno how good that sounds, Y/N." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, small smile playing at his lips. "How low, exactly, were your expectations?"

You pursed your lips, but your amusement betrayed you. You hadn't expected to be called out on the truth behind your statement. Your gaze dropped to the bar before you, and you drummed your fingers on the varnished wood. You shrugged. "Not that low."

He let out a snort of laughter. "What an absolutely glowing review. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Hey, don't you betray me like this!"

"I've made it clear where my loyalties lie." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "In all seriousness, though, why were your expectations so low?"

Again, you were unsure of how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Philip isn't much for first impressions."

"Really?" His surprise appeared genuine, before he tilted his head to the side, considering it, and shrugged. "I guess, with you, that shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You folded your arms, needing more information before you could decide whether you were offended. He saw your furrowed brow and grinned.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing. Honest." He paused, considering himself, and you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. He leaned onto the bar, and he spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to explain. "So, Philip's always been good with people. And he's definitely never had any problems with girls. He was in and out of casual relationships all through high school and college just for the hell of it."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was blatant, and he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he actually did have some tact, once upon a time. Was a charming kid; I never could figure out how he did it." He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "But... well, when something matters to him -- or someone -- he goes looking for advice, and everyone else's input just ends up shaking him up. Think I mighta given him advice about you once or twice, so I guess you have me to thank for that."

For a moment, you were stunned. You swallowed, trying not to get too caught up in your head with the information he’d shared, but given its nature, it was hard not to overthink. You tried to match his lighthearted expression. "And what advice would you have given him?"

"Well, five years ago..." He squinted ever-so-slightly as he considered your question. A silent laugh slowly etched itself into his features. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Just trust me when I tell you, it was bad advice."

"Georges!"

"Seriously, you don't wanna know." You glared at him, leaning onto the bar where you sat. "I'm sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise, telling you helps no one."

You huffed as you slumped back in your seat. "Are you that bad at relationship advice?"

"Worse than what you're imagining," he assured you, and you shook your head, exasperated.

"How in the world are you married?" The question was a joke, but despite his chuckle, his answer wasn't.

"I think some things are just meant to happen." You raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, wearing a small smile. "Seriously, I was an absolute fool in college -- and I mean that -- but no matter how many times I fucked up with Emilie, she always ended up back in my life. It was usually just coincidence. We were taking the same classes; we had the same advisor; we were on the same subway through town; our dorm rooms were right across from each other.

"And honestly? She kinda hated me at some point, but we kept being thrown together, and we got to know each other pretty well. Call me crazy, but it felt like fate." The distant look in his eyes shifted to something akin to entertainment, after that. "Similar thing happened with Philip, actually."

"Really? When?" You were genuinely invested by that point.

"Junior year of high school." He nodded to himself, thinking back with a grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a time. Like, one week in, Philip and I had this huge fight. Don't even remember what it was about, but it had us really heated."

"Honestly, I can't imagine you two fighting," you said, and he gave a shrug, his smile agreeable.

"Nah, not anymore, not like that, but we were teenagers," he said, as though that entirely explained it. "But I was only supposed to have one class with him that year, so he tried to switch out of it to get away from me. They ended up having to remake his schedule so he was in every other class with me. Poor kid couldn't escape it, but if it wasn't for some underpaid high-school administrator, we probably wouldn't be friends."

"Sounds like you have a lot of luck," you said, and he grinned.

"That's just it, though." He pinned you with a thoughtful look. "Was it luck, or was it just meant to turn out that way?"

You considered it for a moment. His stories did sound like the longest odds imaginable, but when you thought about your own life, you couldn't help but hope he was delusional. You'd had more than your fair share of bad luck in your life, and once upon a time, it had driven away almost everything you cared about. You didn't like to think that your misery could just have been some cruel twist of fate.

You opened your mouth to respond, uncertain, but Philip had apparently chosen that moment to re-emerge, inadvertently cutting you off.

"Speak of the devil!" Georges called out, his grin wide, and Philip eyed you both skeptically.

"You two are still talking about me?"

Georges glanced at you, and you told him, "I'm hearing all about your high school years."

Philip groaned. "Oh, c'mon man, what are you telling her?"

"We just covered your junior-year mullet and your fez-wearing phase," he informed him, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. "I was just about to fill her in on when you joined the bowling team in our senior year, but--"

"Alright, that's enough outta you." Georges shot you a conspiratory wink as Philip cut him off, though neither you nor Philip could hide your amusement. He, however, tried to play it off as annoyance. "Sounds like we're gonna need to get out of here before you get to the highlights of college."

"Aw, but Pip, I'm learning so much," you pouted, and he looked mildly exasperated as he met your eyes.

"That's what concerns me." Georges laughed while you groaned, and Philip's smile reappeared as he took a seat to your right.

"Then just wait'll I tell her about middle school."

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

The rest of your evening was a whirlwind. Having grown up with only an older brother, you hadn't realized quite how many six siblings were -- that changed quickly. You really couldn't believe Angelica had managed to grow up with five brothers without losing her mind. Family dinner stretched on into the night, chaotic to the brink of your comfort zone. You found yourself enjoying it much more than you'd expected to, however. The Hamiltons were as lively as they were numerous, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

"But you were the one who got the room alone!" It took an hour or two, but you'd gotten Philip's siblings' names down. That was James, the younger high-schooler, yelling across the table at Angelica, who made a face.

"I was a seventeen-year-old girl! I couldn't keep sharing a room with my younger brothers!" she shot back, "You scared away three of my boyfriends! Three!"

"You never had to bring them up to our room, but you wanted some alone time with them." It was John, the eleven-year-old, who chimed in this time, making kissy sounds at Angelica who just mocked him.

"I had a right to some privacy!" she shot back. You didn't remember how they'd wandered down this line of discussion, but it seemed to be an impassioned one. Alex Jr. scoffed loudly.

"Hey, I'm seventeen, and I don't have my own room," he interjected, glaring down the table at their dad. "This is a double standard!"

"We have a toddler in the house; grow up," Alex Sr. sighed, which only seemed to further upset Alex Jr.

"Hey, William was Eliza's age when Ang was my age! That's not fair!"

"It doesn't matter; you aren't getting any girls anyway." The sneer came from John.

"Hey, I'm getting plenty--"

"Oh, yeah? Where are they?"

"I haven't brought them home because you can't seem to--"

"Boys! Relax!" Eliza did her best to quell the growing argument, but it seemed to be to little avail. Alex put a hand on her shoulder with a suppressed laugh as she huffed, clearly exasperated.

"Don't make this about me! I'm an incredible roommate!"

"Have you seen our bathroom lately?"

"Come on," Angelica groaned, her annoyance getting lost in the growing cacophony. John was shouting now, leaning over the table at his brother, and you jumped in your seat when James yelled back, deciding it was now his place to join the conversation.

You didn't realize you had grabbed Philip's forearm in your startled fit until he broke your train of thought.

"Alright, princess?"

Your head whipped toward him, surprised to see him leaning in to talk to you, and he looked thoroughly amused by your reaction. You released his arm from your grasp, giving him a sheepish smile. "Your family really is something."

"Believe me now that I was the easy child?" he asked, and you let out a snort of laughter, gaze falling back to his family.

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you were like this ten years ago."

"Hurtful," he scoffed, mocking offense, and you just shrugged, smile growing.

"They had to learn it somewhere."

"It was all Angelica."

"I'm sure."

The woman in question broke the wall of noise at almost exactly that moment, raising her head from her hands. "This is exactly why I needed my own room!" That just turned the younger boys into a united front against her, and she looked to Philip with a sigh. "I'm starting to understand why you waited so long to bring Y/N home."

"No idea what you could be referring to. They're so charismatic!" Philip shrugged, plastering on over-exaggerated confusion, seemingly just to get a rise out of his sister. She rolled her eyes with a groan; it appeared to be working. She turned to you.

"Please don't run for the hills just because our younger brothers are absolute monsters," she said, gaze pleading as she reached for your hand. You smiled, amused despite yourself. "We really need some sanity in this family. I can't take family dinners being just me with six boys."

"Aw, Angie, are you saying I'm not one of the absolute monsters?" Philip interjected with a pout. "I'm touched, really."

You and Angelica both rolled your eyes at his antics. It was then that you decided you liked her.

You leaned over the table toward where her hand was desperately clutching yours. "You've got me for the rest of the weekend, but I'm not sure I can promise more."

She groaned exaggeratedly, and Philip nudged you lightly in the side, grinning mischievously. "What, don't you love my family so far?"

His words were teasing, but your soft smile as you looked back at the people surrounding him was anything but. "I do, actually."

When you met his eyes again, his gaze was softer, grin less pronounced. "Good."

The table had slowly grown quieter throughout your interaction, and it seemed you'd held Philip's gaze for just a moment too long, and you turned to see the entire family watching the two of you. You felt your face heat up, took a sip of your water. From then, there was silence, until a grinning William decided to break it.

He'd been quiet for the majority of the meal, so it surprised you when he turned to you, eyes shining. "So, Y/N," he addressed you, tone businesslike.

"I think we've spent enough time questioning Y/N already," Philip interjected before he could continue, resting a near-protective hand on your arm. You cast him a grateful look.

"C'mon, humor him," James said, his grin matching William's. "It's hardly eight; we have plenty of time."

"We started dinner at five." Philip sounded unamused.

"We haven't spent that whole time interrogating her," he defended, and Philip gave him a pointed look. James turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

While you sighed playfully, playing up your exasperation, you really didn't mind it. You'd never had a family like this before. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," William interjected, looking as stern as a seven-year-old could. You pursed your lips, fighting back a laugh as you folded your hands and leaned toward him, mirroring his expression. "Y/N."

"William." You did your best to imitate his tone.

"When are you and Pip going to have a baby?"

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open in shock, if only for a moment. Philip groaned beside you, leaning back in his chair, and you could hear his parents laughing at the end of the table. Some of his siblings looked exasperated; others waited eagerly for your answer.

"Well, um..." You trailed off as you glanced at Philip desperately, hoping he'd shut his family down so you didn't have to. He hadn't yet seemed to have recovered. Your face was burning as you tried to continue. "We aren't married, so not anytime soon, but--"

"When are you getting married?" William pressed, seemingly unaffected by everyone's reactions to his words. You leaned forward, had to take a sip of your drink to hide your surprised laugh.

"Sorry to say it, but right now, we don't know that we are getting married, so I'll have to get back to you on that question." You gave him an apologetic smile before you looked back at Philip, eyes wide. This was territory you didn't think you'd have to cover. He just shook his head and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' He appeared wholly exhausted.

"Surely you've talked about it before, though, haven't you?" It was the older Alex who chimed in that time, hesitant. Eliza gave him a look. "I mean, getting married, having kids and all that. You've been together for two years; you must have considered it at some point."

"Pops," Philip said through gritted teeth, the word carrying an unsaid warning.

"What? I'm just curious," he defended, despite Eliza swatting his shoulder. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he glanced at her, eyes wide. "If you haven't, it's fine. I don't mean to rush you kids into anything, but I just wanted to know."

By then, though she sighed, you could see Eliza looking at the two of you hopefully. The whole table fell silent, expecting an answer you didn't have. "It's just... not something we've taken into consideration at this point. We aren't really set on making decisions about that anytime soon."

"Do you want kids, though?" Angelica asked you, and Philip sighed. Like you, he'd hoped the topic would fall away after your weak explanation. You hesitated, not sure whether giving them a legitimate answer would only egg them on. Ultimately, you shrugged.

"I mean, personally? Yeah, probably at some point," you offered, playing nervously with the edge of your napkin. You didn't want to look at Philip. "The whole 'settling down and starting a family' thing is something I've kind of always pictured"

"Is it more appealing now that you see how great having a big family is for us?" Alex Jr. asked, words saturated with sarcasm. You laughed as he grinned exaggeratedly, gesturing to everyone down the table.

"I know you're joking and all, but I really wouldn't mind this being my day-by-day."

"Really?" Philip chose that moment to finally interject, an eyebrow raised, and you nodded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I mean, yeah." You shrugged, shoulders tense. "What, wouldn't you?"

"I would.” His lips quirked as he sat forward in his chair once again. “But, honestly, I didn’t think this was your style.”

"I'm not totally set on anything, but..." You didn't elaborate further. Confessing to him the future you wanted had you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. His smile was soft as he faintly nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners.

There was a pregnant pause before Alex Sr. spoke.

"I guess now you've talked about it."

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

Dinner ended much later than it needed to, and afterward, they just herded you into their living room. It seemed that now since they all had you in front of them, they were going to take advantage of the opportunity to ask you anything and everything about yourself and your love life (with a focus on Philip, of course). You did your best to field the seemingly endless barrage of questions, and though it took you a while, you finally figured out how to deflect the more uncomfortable ones onto Philip. It wasn't until you yawned -- rather loudly, too -- that the conversation reached any sort of stopping point.

"Tired, princess?" Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly squeezing your side, and you sighed, not having enough energy to push back on the pet name.

"Little bit," you mumbled, a weary smile still adorning your lips. He chuckled, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling more drained than anything, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You two should head up and get some sleep," Eliza said. The look in her eyes as you met her gaze was affectionate. You didn't notice your smile growing.

"I second that. You look exhausted, Y/N," Alex added, looking to you and Philip sympathetically.

You chuckled at that, and you couldn't help the lazy sarcasm that leaked into your voice as you responded, "Thanks, Mr. Hamilton; glad to hear it."

"Alex," he corrected you, his smile kind. He didn't seem to take any offense at your tone; instead, amusement danced in his eyes, and you nodded, matching his expression.

"Alex."

You couldn't decide whether the warm feeling in your chest as you bid everyone goodnight, letting Philip lead you to the stairs, was the result of your fatigue, the merlot Eliza had offered you around seven (and then three more times in the hours that followed), or if it just came from being around his family. It had to be some combination of the three, but you had a sneaking suspicion it leaned mainly toward the latter.

The two of you walked in easy silence, you still reminiscing on everything that had happened that day, everyone you'd met, and you didn't notice Philip watching you as you hung onto the railing to your left. You weren't in any sort of headspace for vigilant observation. Instead, you were fixated fondly on his family. It was never an environment you'd been in, so rowdy and energetic, but tender and caring all the while. You'd been dreading this weekend -- seriously, you spent about an hour on the drive down drowning out Philip's soliloquy, spaced out and wondering whether it was too late to just turn around and dump him off on the side of the road. (Patsy wouldn't have even questioned it when you arrived home.) The past however-many-hours, though, almost since you'd just woken up, had you questioning a number of assumptions you'd made, and not just about the family reunion.

You stumbled over one of the last stairs as you lost yourself in your train of thought. Your eyes snapped wide open; your grip on the railing tightened. Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip backward, you found yourself in Philip's arms, his grip on your waist steadying you as he looked down at you, amused.

"You alright?" The air hadn't yet returned to your lungs; your pseudo-crisis must have begun and ended in under a second, and you stared up at him blankly. You blinked, just beginning to process your surroundings.

Catching your breath was more of a struggle than it should've been, however. All you could discern was the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he looked down at you. You weren't even that close together, but clinging to his arms for what seemed like dear life had you feeling mildly defenseless. You couldn't miss the growing concern in his eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed as you realized you'd let the silence stretch on too long, long enough for Philip to question it. Being tired (and gravitating toward wine-tipsy) must have just heightened the panic in your system, must have slowed your reaction time. Another beat passed, and you finally pulled yourself upright, taking a deep breath as you continued up the last couple of stairs and down the hallway. Philip's concern didn't dissipate as he came up after you, but your mind was elsewhere.

You had to promise yourself to keep from drinking the next day, feeling exasperated with yourself as you couldn't seem to collect your thoughts. He caught up to you as you entered his room, and pulled the door shut behind him with an eyebrow raised. You didn't see him watching you, a silent question in his gaze, as you dragged yourself over to your suitcase.

You turned around after pulling your pajamas out and froze when you met his eyes. "What?"

He pursed his lips. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," you reassured him, giving a weary smile. "I'm just tired; don't worry."

You didn't let yourself ponder any longer, and though you could see your answer hadn't quite appeased him, you ignored it. The room was quiet as you both picked through your suitcases, brushed past each other entering and exiting the bathroom. You were both more than ready to get some sleep.

Just before you were about to climb into bed, you paused, unable to help your drifting gaze. Philip was still in the adjacent bathroom, brushing his teeth, and you glanced back at him. Considering the circumstances, briefly vetting his room felt like fair game.

Your eyes scanned the walls, noting the different posters he still had hung up, appearing to all be from different times in his life -- some were much more worn than others, and you couldn't imagine he'd been anxiously awaiting the new Scooby-Doo movie anytime recently. You wandered over to the desk, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a small smile as you noticed the books and pictures stacked high on the surface. Your fingertips brushed against one photo, and your gaze fell to it, seeing Philip and three other people all in party hats, their celebration frozen in time.

You could hear his footsteps stall behind you as you poked into his belongings, but it didn't discourage you.

"When's this from?" you asked, turning to him with the polaroid you'd uncovered. He chuckled as he walked over, plucking the picture from your hand.

"Eighteenth birthday party," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he eyed the photograph. He turned his gaze back to you with a small smile. "You're actually gonna meet all the people in this photo this weekend, assuming they all show up."

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn as you took a seat on the perfectly made bed a few feet in front of him. "What, couldn't get anyone but family to celebrate your eighteenth with you?"

"Hardly." He hummed, ignoring the aim behind the insult. "My dad lost most of his family when he was young, though, so while you'll meet all of Mom's family this weekend, Pop's is all just his friends who he's adopted into the family, and then their families. These three are his friends' kids who I grew up with," he said, motioning again to the photograph.

"That's sweet," you said softly, pushing yourself further up the bed, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Hmm?"

"That your dad chose this entirely new family, I mean." He shrugged, walking over to join you on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, "Never really thought much of it, I guess." He paused, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow where you sat. "What's your family like? You don't talk about them much."

You pursed your lips. "Small."

"Yeah?" He took a seat next to you after pulling himself onto the bed. Your skin jumped as the outside of his thigh rested against yours, his hip less than an inch away, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You nodded, swallowing hard as a soft smile grew on your lips.

"Just me, my parents and my brother."

"That's it?" He looked surprised at your explanation, and you just shrugged. "What about cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"Two aunts, no grandparents, no cousins."

"Really," he sighed, seemingly still in disbelief. A teasing grin worked its way onto his face as he elbowed you lightly. "So I won't be going to any family reunions in the L/N household anytime soon, then, huh?"

You laughed despite yourself. "Doesn't look like it. The closest we ever get is when my brother and I are together in NYC and Mom and Dad drive up to meet us for a couple days. Not much of a production."

"Sounds nice, though." His grin had grown by then as he looked over at you, leaning back to meet you where you sat. By then, he was sitting angled toward you with his legs crossed, reclining back on his hands. You shifted, and the hand behind you brushed against his. "Next time the L/Ns get together in New York, though, I'd better be invited. Quid pro quo, princess."

"Oh, of course," you replied jokingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Might be a little quieter than what you're used to, though."

He rolled his eyes. "At least you're letting me know ahead of time." You shifted to turn yourself toward him, again finding him only inches from you. He looked as surprised as you did, but neither of you moved, and he continued, tone light. "Speaking of, sorry for not warning you about how... chaotic my family gets. It's been a while since I've been with them all at once, and I forgot to consider that this isn't how everyone's families work."

You chuckled, your smile growing. "No, don't apologize. They're sweet."

"Not the word that comes to mind." He pursed his lips, looking down at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes, but he couldn't have missed the mirth in your expression. "Then again, considering that, it's no wonder you get along with them."

Your jaw dropped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He shrugged, feigning innocence despite his smirk. "Nothing much. Just that I'm glad you feel at home with my family."

You huffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up to jab a finger in his chest. "Now don't you dare even pretend that wasn't an insult!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His grin didn't waver.

"Oh, don't play dumb," you scoffed. You both knew the fury in your voice was contrived, and his amusement seemed to grow. "We both know what you meant."

"Oh, yeah?" He pushed back on you, leaning in against your hand, an eyebrow raised. "What'd I mean, princess?"

"I said don't pretend," you warned him. He was looking increasingly smug the more indignant you became, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Who said I was?

"I'm not stupid." You raised your eyebrows.

"'Course not." He mocked your expression. "So you must already know I would never mean anything other than praise by that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes with a groan, having had about enough, despite the smile you were failing to stifle. He laughed, and you reached out to shove him away by the chest, but just as you did, he tried to grab your wrist, eyebrows raised.

He was too late.

As he grabbed your wrist, you couldn't pull back to where you were sitting, and your eyes widened as you lost your balance. Your momentum turned what would've hardly tipped him over into a much more forceful push, and you sent him falling backward, his legs unfolding as he tried to catch himself, with you, in turn, collapsing forward with a yelp. You ended up on top of him, one hand still held to his chest, the other beside his head, and you knelt straddling his waist. Both of you had wide eyes as you realized the position you were in, nose-to-nose, and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

He was the first to speak, eyes shining, his voice low. "Y'know, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to come home with me for the weekend."

However, you were still stunned into silence, hyper-aware of any movement either of you made. You had to focus on your breathing in an effort to calm your pounding heart. (With your hand on his chest, you could tell you weren't the only one.)

You felt your hair brushing against your cheek as it fell forward, draped beside your head over Philip. It must have been subconscious when you found yourself leaning in further yet, must have been instinct based on the situation. Nonetheless, when you did, the side of your nose brushed against his, and you felt his heartbeat quicken, saw his eyes widen.

You paused when you must have been less than an inch above him.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice cautious as his free hand found its way up to your waist. You stalled, though, for another moment, shivering when you felt his breath fan across your lips. He was all but immobile beneath you, too apprehensive to make any move one way or another.

The anticipation in his eyes only heightened with each passing second.

It was then that you pushed yourself off of him, blinking hard, and you couldn't decide whether you had lost your nerve or regained your sense. You swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to, um--" You cut yourself off. What in the world were you thinking? The question arose in your mind desperately as you scrambled further back, further from him. Your face was burning. "I wasn't--"

"You're ok," he said softly, giving you a reassuring (yet, slightly worried) smile. You didn't meet his gaze. "It was a mistake." You were so lost in your own train of thought that you didn't notice when Philip finally stood, walked to the empty side of the bed to join you.

"We should get some sleep," he said, turning on the lamp beside him, and you nodded. The past few minutes had you spiraling. All his actions were hesitant; had you scared him? You didn't mean to end up in that position. He knew it was just a mishap, right? Did you know that it was?

He stood briefly to hit the light, and you crawled under one side of the covers. After a moment, he joined you. Neither of you knew quite what to say next.

"G'night, princess," he finally murmured, voice as wary as it was soft as you curled into the sheets, and he pulled them over himself alongside you. You closed your eyes in an effort to forget that you were still facing him, shifted over to give him space. Your calf brushed against his knee, but you didn't pull away.

When you heard the lamp turn off, you finally spoke again. "Night, Pip."

The room was completely silent after that, but neither of you was at rest. You lay with your eyes tightly shut, your thoughts running a mile a minute as you willed yourself to stop replaying one specific moment on a loop.

You didn't realize your brow was furrowed, but Philip did, watching you for just a moment longer with smiling eyes.

The bed was just a little bit warmer that night.

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rowanfoster · 4 years

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{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare, aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

#ok.... one more time kngrdjsnh

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wordstrings · 4 years

Text

Inbox dump

(brace yourselves, I’m including the timestamps because these have been sitting forever and you may literally forget ever having sent one of these because they’re from so long ago 😬)

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Anonymous said: March 11th 2014 *Clears throat* Non-canon verse, uni AU probably *strums guitar and takes a deep breath* DUEEEEE TO A COMPUTING errORRR, dean and gabe are stuck as roomatesssssssss, whilesamandcascanbestucktogethertoo that'snotaneccesitybutitwouldbegreaaaaaaaaattttttttt, and veeery soon it turns into something of a friendship BUT THEEEENNNN dean fights with saaAAAM and gabe is like "dude stop being so upset" aND FLUFF HAPPEeeeeeEEEEEEeens! *stands up and bows* tyvm for accepting debriel though like omg <3

I’ve been rewatching some of Supernatural seasons 5 and 6 this past weekend, and it reminded me how much I love and miss Gabriel. I still maintain that Debriel is a super-underrated ship. The manic-chaos potential is *muah*. (see: #Debriel)

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Anonymous said: August 7th 2018 psst... light back tickles while cuddling in bed are pure™ and wholesome™

Good shit good shit good shit

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Anonymous said: September 19th 2018 I love science and go to public seminars as often as I can. I walked in to the most recent one (which I had picked at random), and it was on the science of tickling. There were demonstrations. There were hand gestures and finger wiggling. There were in depth descriptions of the anatomy and physiology behind ticklish spots. It was legitimately your Amateur Production’s fic, and I was Kevin. Worst of all it was 2 hours long. I think I died during it and my soul was sucked into hell.

Uhhhhhh where can I get a copy of the slide deck?? Asking for a friend. (see: #series: Amateur Production)

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Anonymous said: September 23rd 2018 your art skills have me shook in the best possible way

aaaahh thank you! Fun fact: I went to art school and even took illustration as a concentration area but I’ve hardly drawn anything for like ten years. When I do draw, it’s usually because there are feelings that I don’t wanna do words about. (see: #strings does art)

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Halo!anon said: September 27th 2018 A small, sinful part of Castiel had the urge to gloat. It was somewhat dampened by the fact that Dean was still under the impression that being abducted is peak romance."I can't believe you went out of your way to set up our second date!" He'd squealed, as Castiel tightened his restraints. - little excerpt of a sequel to Date Nights with Demons i had planned for months but abandoned. halo!anon

Your demented version of Demon!Dean is so entertaining 😄 (see: Date Nights with Demons)

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Anonymous said: November 6th 2018 Aaaaah your Gabriel / Kali drabble was adorable, I can't help but love seeing our mighty archangel reduced to a mass of giggles, and you write Gabriel so so well <3. I love your writing your stories always brighten my day ^^

It’s so rare for him to let his guard down, isn’t it? But when he does, he has a grand old time of it. :) (see: this drabble)

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sarah-lou-who said: November 8th 2018 1/4 Boo! The ghost of my online presence in the community is peeking its head in because I need help. I don’t have a platform or following to sound an alarm, so I’m using my platonic tumblr wife’s platform and following for me, because that’s what platonic tumblr wives do. Right? Anyway, I’m very actively fixated on Attack on Titan atm. You know this very well. You also know my predicament. I seem to have exhausted the entire supply of tickly AoT content I’m interested in that exists currently. 2/4 So, if you’re willing to publish these for me, I’m crying out into the vast TFB lands hoping that there’s someone out there to answer the call. I am in desperate need of tickly AoT content. I don’t know if anyone around here writes for it much these days. I haven’t found anyone. And I know beggars can’t be choosers, but it can’t be helped; I really only care if Eren is involved. Even better would be Levi, but I haven’t found ANYTHING involving him, so I feel like asking for that is futile. 3/4 I digress. Even after all this time I can’t keep my asks less than 50 parts long. So my goal here is that someone, somewhere, will by chance come across these, and be able and willing to either write fic of the tickly variety for Eren and/or Levi from Attack on Titan, or direct me to someone who can, if they know a person who knows a person who knows a person. (Sidenote, hi anyone who still remembers me! It’s Sarah, the more ticklish half of Leerah. I’m doing good and I miss you!) 4/4 (I hope you’re all doing well!) Thank you for letting me take advantage of your devoted followers, Strings! Love yaaa!!!

Ah, my platonic tumblr wife Sarah returns! (Digitally, anyway. Reality-wise, we hang out all the time and it’s probably very rude of me to have not published this ask for so long!) I keep teasing her that she has a Type, and that is dark-haired sulky badass who’d probably make a wicked ‘ler – AoT Levi, SPN Cas, FMA Roy, etc. So anyway, if anyone knows of somewhere I can point her to find the content she’s (still) craving, lmk!

Anonymous said: October 23rd 2019 I’m sorry if this is invasive in any way, but how is Sarah doing? I’ve been absent from Tumblr for a couple years and I see that her blog is now deactivated. I was just wondering if she’s doing alright and if she’s still around here on a different blog maybe?

See above! She doesn’t have a TFB community blog anymore, but she’s doing well. We’re quarantine buddies and helping each other out a lot. Very kind of you to ask! <3

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Anonymous said: December 2nd 2018 Hi, sorry to bother you but do you know what happened to prodigal-anon’s blog? It seems to have been deleted. Sorry again if you’ve been asked this before

No worries, friend! Here’s an answer for you!

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Anonymous said: December 13th 2018 I LOVE THE LOOPY SERIES! I love it so much, is there any chance you’ll be doing a part four? I’d give anything to see Cas and Dean tickle each other, it would be so cute 😍

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I haven’t entirely stopped writing... and Loopy 4 is one of those unfinished pieces that has seen a few additions lately. :) I’ve learned not to make promises about when something might get finished and posted, but I genuinely do believe this may be one of the first things that shows up once I’m ‘back in the game.’ Stay tuned... (see: #series: Loopy)

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Anonymous said: January 1st 2019 No no no you can't just stop there! I need more fluffy destiel with tickles and kissing! Pretty please?

I believe this is in response to Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight. Don’t you worry, anon – Dean and Cas are not done being fluffy on this blog!

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1832wasalongtimeago said: January 25th 2019 Hi I just wanted to pop in and say the Maintenance series is amazing!! The second part was doing things to my poor heart I’ve read it like 5 times already. You’re such an amazing writer and thank you fo writing for us!

I’m very flattered, but I can’t take credit for the Of Maintenance series – that’s the lovely work of ask-flip-frost! It does things to my poor heart, too, so you’re in good company. :)

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Anonymous said: January 26th 2019 Sam Winchester can take a lot of things. The one thing he CAN'T take? Someone using baby talk on him when he's being tickled. He collapses into a puddle of helpless giggles faster than a house of cards in a stiff wind.

Precious Sammy just needs to laugh and be held, doesn’t he? <3

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Anonymous said: May 17th 2019 Thor needs tickles. So. Damn. Much.

Oh this was from right after Endgame came out. Thor did make me feel some sads there. :( Poor bab.

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Anonymous said: July 25th 2019 hi! i’ve read your wonderful fics forever but i’ve never really sent anything like this before so i don’t really know what to say.. but i had a destiel tickly thought and really wanted to share it with somebody, so here goes i guess- dean is taking too long in the shower so cas decides to use his mojo from the other room to speed things along. and listens to dean’s echoey laughs through the door. that’s all. sorry if this is weird! okay bye have a good one

This is not weird and I may have delayed in telling you any of my feelings about it but I definitely have a doc somewhere that has some vague notes about how I’d like to write this because I like it!

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Anonymous said: August 6th 2019 Anhhgff your Good Omens tword fics are so cute snvfddf i never knew I needed that of my favorite husbands till now😳😍

I know, right?! They’re just dying to be dropped into every fluffy situation. (see: #Good Omens)

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Anonymous said: July 25th 2019 Poking my head in to say hello, hope you’re doing well still! I just got into Good Omens and I absolutely loved your fic! (I watched the show first because my book was taking too long in the mail lol) Also, the other week I somehow talked myself into making a tfb blog, after all these years of almost doing so before chickening out (this ask isn’t from it because I just hopped in here briefly in a private phone browser to say hi, it’s literally just august-anon though) ~August!Anon

August!anon, I’m always so happy to see you stop by! Tagging your (not-so-new anymore) blog so everyone can check you out: @august-anon

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hey-teenblog said: August 4th 2019 I love your fanfiction very much! They give me a lot of pleasant emotions. And most importantly, they, saturated with tenderness and love, gave me to accept myself as lee!! sorry for my english, i'm russian Love you 😘❤️

I will never tire of hearing things like this! Thank you for telling me. “Saturated with tenderness and love” is a such wonderful compliment about my writing – thank you very much! No need to apologize for language differences; I’m always impressed with anyone who manages to pick up English because it’s bonkers.

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Anonymous said: August 23rd 2019 Hi! Just found this blog and wondering some basic info. ** What fandoms do toy write for? ** Do you accept prompts? ** Do you write reader insert fics? Thank you lovley ❤️

Anonymous said: August 29th 2019 Do you write tickle fics for bnha?? Asking for a friend 👀👀

The only fandoms I have reliably been able to write for are Supernatural and Good Omens – but even Good Omens is a rookie player here. Supernatural is my main jam, and Destiel is my favorite flavor. I don’t do reader inserts, but I’m always “accepting” prompts. I just haven’t written many of them for quite a long time now, so you’re welcome to drop them as long as you’re okay with them collecting dust. (see: this selfsame post)

My About/FAQ page is very dusty right now, too, but there might be some useful tidbits in there for you.

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Anonymous said: November 12th 2019 okayokayokay. Have you watched Lucifer? It's on netflix, it's great, so much emotions and pining. (Also, y'know, reg. Luci stuff. He runs a club. Bad jokes. It's great.)

I haven’t, but it’s on my Netflix watchlist, so I’ll get there eventually! I saw a gifset once where he actually did the thing I see in winged fanfic all the time, where there was gunfire and he sheltered someone he cared about with his manifested wings. And honestly, that was the deciding factor for me.

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Anonymous said: November 16th 2019 Oh Man U listen to Critrole as well! Nice! Campaign 1 was awesome but also heartfelt and really gut-punching at points. Who is your fav so far, anyone you aren’t fond of? (& Out of interest do you have any tickle related thoughts on the main crew or upcoming Fics we can look out for? As you said it’s tumbleweeds out here for this fandom’s tickles and I’ll take anything really 😂!) Hope u enjoy!!!!!

It’s STILL tumbleweeds out here and it’s making me crazy! My heart belongs to Vax primarily, Percy secondarily. I don’t really have cohesive thoughts or headcanons about anything, unfortunately. I do have this one mental picture that keeps coming up that I keep wanting to see art of (who knows, maybe I’ll commission somebody someday?) – of ridiculous brute Grog just lifting Vax straight up in his arms and gettin’ wiggly with his fingers while all Vax can do is laugh and pry and kick while absolutely nobody helps him.

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Regarding #series: Accessor:

Anonymous said: August 31st 2015 I would like to see accessor!verse cas using feathers on Dean!!! and NIBBLES and RASPBERRIES and TEETH and TONGUE and WOWWWWWW

ME TOO, FRIEND. It’s been aaaaages since I published anything new for the Accessor AU, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been going back to my unfinished docs every once in a while to add a few lines here and there. ;)

Anonymous said: October 29th 2016 Prompt: Cas is put in charge of getting a treaty with a neighboring country that shares a lot of the same customs, including Accessories, with certain... twists (think Bracelets AU) and treats their personal slaves (like Accessories) like people (listening to opinions, giving proper care, etc.). The foreign diplomats keep bringing that up and talking to Dean. Cas isn't sure he can make it though the diplomatic proceedings. Also, he might be having improper thoughts about that custom and Dean...

I’m posting this here, but I’m definitely keeping this filed elsewhere because it’s FANTASTIC.

Halo!anon submitted: June 4th 2018 I can’t help but imagine how tickling must play a part in other aspects of society in the accessor ‘verse, besides the sessions between master and accessory. So here’s some imagines and headcanons, with a touch of worldbuilding. (Warnings, besides the usual for this AU: death mention, reference to past trauma.)

- Among the high class, during parties and other celebrations, it’s seen as a common courtesy to string up one’s personal accessory in the center of the room and let the guests entertain themselves with them. Lord Castiel never does this with Dean, much to his fellow nobles’ disappointment; the mere suggestion had Dean quaking as things he’d rather forget came back to bite him.

- Every so often, a petty criminal(the poor man’s accessory, if you will) is placed in stocks in a small town’s square and left at the mercy of the very people they used to menace. What happens next usually involves honey, some sheep, and plenty of begging. A guard stands by to warn people, “No hurting, only tickling. Everyone please wait your turn, they’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

- Certain monastic healers perform tickle therapy as a treatment for anxiety, stress, and other “diseases of the soul”, as they call them. Balthazar himself proposed the idea, because of course he did. The rich usually indulge in this kind of therapy secretly, due to its undignified nature. Some contemplate the possibility of training accessories to tickle in the future, but it’s still a big taboo.

- Every town has a folktale about a tickle monster. Curiously, many of them involve controlling plants and attacking through dreams. The southern communities still have a giggle remembering that one time six years ago when Michael offered to hunt down one such monster and came back with Crowley, a sleazy drunkard with a fetish and a dream, sitting in a cage and wearing a mask.

- The Masters sisters, Lillith, Meg and Ruby, have a long history with law enforcement. Their favorite pastime is snatching unlucky merchants off the roads and tickling them into coughing up everything they have. Everyone is sure they had a hand in Fergus"Crowley" Macleod’s untimely demise by ferocious attack hounds, but they’re very good at covering their tracks. They’ll help you cover up your tracks too, if you’re a friend- ask Bela Talbot.

I might make a second part if I get any more ideas. I hope you enjoyed this! -Halo!anon.

I am very fond of you indeed, Halo!anon. These are so creative!

hypahticklish submitted: July 24th 2018 Accessor!Ideas:

~ Gabriel leads a furious rant regarding Prince Lucifer/Sam to Castiel, relating back to perhaps dealings he has directly had with the Prince between their two unstable-yet-truced Kingdoms. Castiel relates with similar views shared by Gehenna’s councilor(s).

~ Dean and Sam BM where the audience learns more about their homevillage. Dean starts it after a rather morose remark from Sam and ends with Sammy smiling and stealing my heart.

~ Balthazar helps Sam in several ways: 1) Learns the Sam was originally a psuedo-Advocates apprentice, as well as herbalist nephew when Sam identifies the components to some salves/medicines he’s making (he had been explaining what he was doing in an attempt to spare himself being attacked like the first couple times) 2) Calls Sam out on being intelligent and making a recklessly stupid choice by selling himself to find Dean. 3) Removes Lucifers mark. And maybe perhaps: 4) Allows Sam to assist in his own healing/medicine making under his careful observation, feigned as needing two sets of hands to do correctly and his assistant was running an errand, to assess his skills. 5) Offer he work in the hospice under him, apprenticing, should Gabriel allow his intelligence not go to waste. It’s not what Sam really wants to do/learn, but it’s better than doing nothing.

~Dean officially thanks Castiel for saving Sam. I’m talking full feels, single man tear sorta thing. And Castiel says “there was never another option” and then its schmoopy sweet with the kisses and the tickles and the Cas saying he loves Dean back!!!!!!!! swoon.

~ Kali!Likes!Sam’s!Spirit! Give me a dinner scene with Gabriel, Kali and Sam where hes holding his own in a diplomatic conversation with them when he nearly crosses a line (maybe something classist? Making it clear that Cas and Gabe are the exception to his experiences) and she says “I like this ones fire. He reminds me of you, my love.” *grabby hands*

~ Prince Lucifer sends a message to Gabriel requesting (threatening) his Helpmate be returned to him for a handsome reward. Sam somehow sees letter and gets spooked because DRAMA. Gabriel responds to Lucifer with the Chief Advocate equivalent of “Fuck Off”

You, my friend. YOU. All these feelings about Sam? Top-notch, and I shall be borrowing them, yes I shall.

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Regarding #android!Cas:

hypahticklish said: January 23rd 2016 Android!Cas deciding today is the DAY. Dean has been teasing him lately that he likes these strange sensations that have him using all his back-up generated power to not accidentally break Dean's bones and challenging him with that cocky smirk and relaxed confidence. Android!Cas practicing during time while Dean rests with holding objects with similar density to the human wrists with enough gentle force that they neither fracture or slip from his grasp. Android!Cas surprising Dean by turning the tables and pinning his wrists over his head while settling himself on Dean's thighs. Android!Cas not necessarily tickling at first so much as just touching like he had been wanting to so as to catalog how his best friend feels with his new technology. Android!Cas feeling that bubble of FEELS in his chest as he listens to Dean swear at him with positive physical actions negating his harsh words, growing more amused as the bubbling giggles begin. I love Android!Cas

Anonymous said: January 23rd 2016 Android!Cas figures out his own strength comes in handy for more than just retaining himself during tickle fights. When he surprises Dean, Dean tends to squirm and fight back a little (even though he told Cas to get him back as part of the experience), so Cas uses his strength to gently hold Dean down while ticking him. Dean's never been held immobile before so it's a new experience for him, but he ends up liking it. Cas notices how Dean relaxes into his hold after a minute or so. Cas doesn't fail to use this knowledge about Dean, coming up with teasing words and methods of ticking to make Dean all squirmy and giggly, taking special notice of how light tickles effect Dean even more than most other touches, using that specially designed soft brush meant to gently clean Cas' delicate computer chips.

Anonymous said: February 17th 2016 I'm joining in on the Android!Cas thing, if not too late. Perhaps Android!Cas has detachable parts, like a foot, and Dean is a jerk and runs off and hides with it all the while tickling it and making fun of Android!Cas's increasingly desperate attempts to get it back.

Y’all, careful deliberate curious determined ‘ler Cas is LIFE. And, reserved confused helpless adorable ‘lee Cas is also life. Detachable and extensible parts are probably key to both of these things.

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Regarding current personal circumstances:

Anonymous said: January 14th 2020 I pray that you’re able to find peace during this difficult time. You are loved more than you will ever know. I know it’s hard to believe, but there will come a time that you are thankful for this experience, because it will have turned you into the person you are truly meant to be. Be strong and be hopeful. Keep your faith and keep knowing that you are going to be okay. Don’t let this dark time destroy the magnificent light inside of you. Sending you so much love

Anonymous said: January 17th 2020 I’m so sorry you’re struggling. Hang in there! We’re all here for you!

Anonymous said: February 11th 2020 all my love, thoughts and prayers are going towards you right now. also wanted to just drop a little thank you note in your inbox for all the light and joy i've found in your fics over the years. im sitting half way through my first year at uni currently but ive been a fan of yours since early highschool and i feel like ive almost grown up with your writing and fanfics in a strange way, so thank you so much for that. sending all my love to you once again- you are so strong x

I love you all so much.

#blog maintenance #ask #you people are too kind #prompt #Accessor 'verse #android!Cas

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liliah39 · 5 years

Text

Crazy Little Game of Love, Chapter 2

A/n: Thanks for reading! Send me some asks about the story, or who you want y/n to end up with! There will be an aesthetic board for this chapter in the next couple days to feature all the amazing clothing pieces in this chapter! As usual, lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist, this can also be Borhap!Queen x reader, and sorry for any typos :)

From the concept I posted: here

Liliah39 Masterlist

Word Count: 7.8K+

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Freddie made you be yourself. Your first year of school was a whirlwind of crazy new adventures that he forced you to take, but you wouldn’t change any of it for the world. Of course there was some rule breaking, but as Freddie says, “Following all of societies rules makes life dreadfully boring.” In the beginning, he slept on your couch a lot because not only would the two of you be up until the early hours of the morning studying, gossiping, joking, or doing just about anything with each other, but also Freddie’s roommate was absolutely dreadful. He commonly picked on him for being Indian and was downright awful to him, so about 3 months into your amazing friendship he was practically living in your room anyways, so the two of you bought a pull out couch and set your room up as a dual dorm. Closet space became a serious problem, since you each had a lot of clothes, so you both resulted to keeping your clothes that weren’t in season in tubs, keeping pants folded in tubs, and splitting the closet down the middle. For the coming school year, Freddie just lied that he’d be living off campus, and instead stayed in your room again. You made him a copy of all the keys he’d need to get in, and although you were nervous about getting caught, Freddie assured you wouldn’t, and you ended up just being happy you’d have someone to live with.

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You hadn’t spoken to your parents in quite some time. When Christmas came, you called them two weeks before and explained your situation, and to say the least, they were absolutely furious. They demanded you come home instantly and even tried calling the school, but as you said to John all those months ago, there was nothing they could do. You were a legal adult who was entirely paying for her own college. Freddie said they were trying to push some “tough love” on you when they told you that you wouldn’t be seeing them on Christmas or any breaks unless you came home, thinking that would break you, but instead you put on a strong façade and told your mother that if that was how she was going to treat her daughter, than you wanted nothing to do with them and hung up, immediately flinging into Freddie’s arms and crying hysterically. In that moment, Fred scooped you up and carried you to your shared room and held you in his lap as you cried until you fell asleep that night. He’d never seen you so depressed. You barely spoke to him and didn’t leave the room for a week. One day, when Freddie came home from his class, he walked in to find you laying on your side facing the wall, unsure if you were asleep, so he decided to tell you the good news anyways.

“Hello darling. I know you haven’t wanted to talk, and that’s perfectly fine, but I just hope you’re as okay as you can be. I think about you all day. I’m dreadfully worried about you. Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I left quite early this morning and instead went to see my mum and dad. I told them about what happened and they feel awful. Even though we’re from India, ever since we came here we’ve always celebrated Christmas to be more a part of British culture. They said no one should be alone on Christmas, and you’re more than welcome to come stay with us? Mum and I went out shopping, and we already have presents for you, love. All you have to do is say you’ll come with me.” You’d never heard Freddie speak so quietly and sad, and didn’t move a muscle for a couple minutes. Freddie thought he was speaking to a wall until he saw the small shake of your shoulders as you croaked out,

“Really?” You rolled over to see your friend with a big smile on his face.

“Well of course, darling! You’re like the twin I never had; you’re my better half and I love you with all my heart. Anywhere I go, you’re always welcome to accompany me.”

Freddie didn’t need a verbal confirmation that you’d be joining him. Instead, you stepped out of your bed for the first time in days, ran over to him and engulfed him in a massive hug, quietly sobbing into his shoulder as you whispered, “Thank you” over and over again.

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Freddie’s family became your own, and you felt as if they were the parents you never had. They loved to hear the two of you play your instruments together in their family room, and felt as though you really had a special connection. One night after Christmas you and Freddie decided to go out to see a band play at a local college club, and before you stepped out of the door in your favorite clubbing disco dress with a thin, yet cute coat over it, Bomi, Freddie’s dad stopped you both.

“Hold on. No daughter of mine is going out in this weather without a proper coat.” He smiled.

“Daughter?” You replied, unable to control the smile growing on your face.

“Daughter. Now here dear, you can borrow mums fur coat. Don’t lose it!” He said with a finger in your face.

“I won’t, not in a million years. Thanks Mr. Bulsara.”

“You can call me dad, y/n, if you want to. We don’t mind. Everyone deserves to have supportive parents, and we’d love to fill that gap.”

You immediately teared up from your happiness at the situation you were in. You finally had a home. “Thank you, dad.” You enveloped him in a tight hug, and after a little while he patted your back and said,

“Now go have fun! But not too much fun! Don’t let anything happen to her Farrokh!” He called after you as he pushed you out the door.

You both turned to see him at the door and blew him a kiss simultaneously as you walked hand in hand to the car.

“I’m mad at you, y/n.” Freddie pouted.

“What could I have possibly done now?” You laughed, exasperated of his daily dramatics.

“Dad let you borrow mum's fur coat. I never get to borrow mum’s fur coat!” He sighed flamboyantly.

“Oh, hush. Poor Farrokh.” You dragged, eager to mock him.

“If you keep calling me that, I’ll actually be mad!”

“But it’s so cute!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived at the club, and noticed all of the posters for the band strategically placed around the room. The band was called Smile, and Freddie said he’d been following them for quite some time now.

“So, you think they’re good then, Fred?”

“Well, they have great potential.” He strategically replied.

“So, they’re only half good?” You sighed.

“Just wait and see, I can’t explain it.” Freddie quickly brushed the subject away. “Come on love! We’ve got 25 minutes before they come on. Let’s dance!” And just as quickly as he brushed away the subject, he’d grabbed your hand and whisked you off to the front of the dance floor.

You recognized the song immediately: Le Freak, by Chic. “Seriously Fred?! Front of the floor where everyone can see us?!” You screamed over the loud music, laughing as Freddie spinned you.

“Of course darling! You’re a marvelous dancer. Show it and have fun!”

Freddie was right; you were an excellent dancer. You naturally had great rhythm from playing violin for so long, and your dancing to disco was the perfect mix between popular disco dancing and more sultry, sexier moves. Next, Brick House by the Commodores came on, and the crowd cheered, and so did you and Fred. The two of you had come up with some sort of routine to this in your dorm when you were bored. “Freddie! Did you put this on?” You squealed.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Now show everyone our marvelous routine. Since we’re not the act, we must put on our own show!” He declared.

You started your choreography, immediately getting nervous, because this dance you’d made up required a lot of hip movement, and you were kind of embarrassed to do it in public. When you got to the place where you were standing right in front of Freddie for the chorus, he whispered in your ear, “Let loose darling, just pretend we’re back home.”

And that was all you needed to let loose and really get into the moment. Freddie carefully pulled his mother’s coat from your shoulders and threw it on the edge of the stage in front of you. Little did you know, there were two pairs of eyes watching you intently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Brian! Brian hurry! You’ve got to see this girl dancing!” Roger yelled back to the small room they were using a dressing room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! She can’t be anyone I haven’t seen before, Rog, we hardly ever get new audience members.” Brian said as he walked to the curtain his friend was peering behind. “I’m sure she’s pretty, but she can’t be that p-” and for the first time in his life, Brian had set eyes on the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “Holy shit.”

“I told you!!” Roger smirked, and continued gawking at you.

“She’s gorgeous.” Brian stated, still in awe of the dancing he was witnessing.

“She’s a goddess.” Roger replied in the same tone.

“How the hell does she move her hips like that mate?”

“I don’t know Bri, but I’d like to find out. Say, that bloke she’s with, he’s a regular of ours, right?”

Roger asked.

“Yup. Lucky Bastard.” Brian said as they watched you press your back up against Freddie.

The song ended, much to Brian and Roger’s demise, and with an angelic smile on your face you grabbed mum’s fur coat and draped it over your shoulders.

“She wears fur coats too? I don’t even know her name and she’s gonna be the bloody death of me Brian. Bloody hell.” Roger sighed.

“Guys! We’re going on in 10! Get back here!” Tim yelled to his band mates, and much to their disappointment, Brian and Roger returned to the dressing room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the band prepared to go on, Freddie grabbed you a water to cool down, and you noticed the blonde drummer. Not bad looking, not in the slightest bit. The guitarist was cute too, but once they started playing, you broke from your trance and could see why Fred wouldn’t give you his honest opinion. When he returned, you said, “I see what you mean Fred. They all have potential, but just don’t work great together. The drummer and guitarist are doing pretty okay though.”

“And that’s why I’m going to be their new singer.” Freddie said nonchalantly.

You almost spit out your water. “What? How?”

“Oh I don’t know yet, darling. But I always get my way.” Freddie watched them intently until the end of their show, and you left soon after. You weren’t crazy about Smile, so you hardly ever went to their performances with Freddie. But hey, at least it’s members were cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About One year later, October 1970:

It was the next school year, your sophomore year and Freddie’s senior year, and Freddie was still living in your dorm. The two of you couldn’t have been happier to do everything with each other. You were truly the definition of best friends.

“Y/n hurry up! You look fine, darling! Your dress looks great, you look great, your hair is fine, now let’s go!” Freddie sassed, hands on his hips while he absentmindedly paced around the room.

“Oh would you look at that? The Queen of making me fashionably late to everything is sassing me for making him late! Oh how the tables have turned.” You smirked, turning back to the mirror to complete your makeup. You could see his face in the background of the mirror. He was evidently pissed off, yet also laughing at your quirks at the same time.

“I’m glad someone finally noticed I’m the queen around here.” He quickly snapped back as your tried to hold in your laughter. You’d just finished your eye shadow and went to grab your eyeliner, when Freddie quickly snatched it out of your hand.

“What the hell was that for!” You fumed, face turning red.

“Oh hush darling, we both know you’re dreadful at doing eyeliner. Now close your eyes so we can get out of here.” You obeyed his command and closed your eyes, and Freddie quickly gave you the perfect eyeliner.

As you admired his work while you put on mascara, you quietly muttered, “I really don’t know how you do it. My hands always shake. Takes me-“

“Ten tries to do your eyeliner! We know! Now let’s go, y/n!” Freddie grabbed your hand and yanked you out the door just as you finished your last stroke of mascara and grabbed mum’s coat, leaving you laughing like a mad man at your friends’ impulsiveness.

“Freddie Mercury! You’ll be the death of me!” you screeched. Freddie had just legally changed his last name to Mercury right as the new, still untitled band had formed, not wanting his mates to know him as anything else. Since Freddie’s parents let you bring Jer’s coat back to school, you and Freddie shared it frequently. Although more often than not you fought over who would wear it, since you went everywhere together.

The two of you walked close side by side down the busy London streets toward Imperial College where Freddie’s new band mates, Brian and Roger, go to school and had secured the four of them a large practice space in the music building. The trees were filled with leaves around you, and it was a rare, yet beautifully sunny day in London. You were just happy to spend it with your best friend.

“Say, Fred. Brian and Roger. Are they the same blokes of the same name from that awful band you took me to in December?” You quipped, knowing your choice of words would irritate him.

“For the millionth time, the band wasn’t bad, they just weren’t right. I told you all they needed was me, and they got me.” Freddie proudly stated, puffing his chest out as he walked. His confidence overwhelmed you at times. Not in a bad way. Just… interesting, to say the least.

“And, how are they? Do you like them?” You interrogated. You and Fred had both come quite protective of one another, so naturally, you had to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

“I love them. We’ve become good friends. We held auditions for a bassist, found a guy named John. He fit with our style the best. I want to get to know him more. He’s quite talented, just awfully quiet. But we’ll be friends soon; I’m not worried about it. I’m quite easy to become friends with. Some girl I’m close with told me so.” he winked, and started fast walking ahead of you.

“Hey, wait up!” You said as you jogged to him. Once you reached him, you took his hand in yours, not romantically in any way, but just as close friends do when discussing something serious. “Is that so, that some girl told you that you were easy to become friends with? Quite a compliment huh?”

“Oh, one of the very best compliments I’ve ever gotten, darling. I’m quite close with her actually. She’s rather great.” He smugly said as the two of you continued your little game.

“Is she now? What’s she like? You still friends with her?” You laughed.

“Oh yes. And of course we’re still friends! I’d never let someone like her slip away! Not in a million years. I’d even say she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. No one could ever take her place. She’s sweet, kind, caring, hilarious; the list goes on and on, darling.”

The two of you just smiled at each other after that. Sometimes, no words had to be said. A look said one thousand words. “You’re my eternal best friend too.”

“I like that! Eternal best friends. What a title! You’re a genius. This is exactly why we’re friends darling, we think so alike.” Once again the two of you had nothing to say.

A couple minutes later you said. “Love ya Fred.”

And he looked down at you with a smile and said “Love ya too.”

As the two of you entered the college and followed the hand drawn map one of Freddie's friends must have drawn for him, you remembered about the new bassist Freddie was speaking of. John. John the bassist. Could it be? Could it actually be your friend John Deacon from High School? Though you knew it was silly of you to assume it was your childhood friend, for John was just about the most common name of the century, and you were sure multiple John’s played the bass, a little part of you wanted it to be your friend. You wanted to make things right.

“Hey Fred, that bassist you mentioned. You know his last name?”

“Why?”

“Oh just wondering is all. Might know him.” You tried not to let on you were thinking about your childhood friend John. Anytime you brought him up to Freddie, you always ended up crying and he’d end up worrying about you, so you figured at this point it was better to just say nothing.

“I mean I do, and I don’t. I’ve heard it before, I just forgot it.” He quickly spat out, opening the door to the music building for you both.

You walked in silence, encompassed by your thoughts until Freddie opened another door into a large rehearsal space. Freddie said hello to his mates, tapped your arm to say he’d be leaving you, and went to warm up on the piano in the corner. You took off your coat and placed it on the large chair to the right of the door. The other three members were there faced away from you tending to their instruments. You immediately recognized Roger, the blonde from that band Smile. His hair could make him stand out miles away. You then noticed the other, dark, curly haired man picking up a guitar, whom you also recognized from the band, and assumed he was Brian. That left the newly appointed bassist who was still facing away from you. He nearly took your breath away. From behind, he looked just like your John. Was it possible? His long, wavy, light brown hair stopped just below his shoulders, and you watched him intently.

“Darling,” Freddie called to you, “This is Roger, that’s Brian, and over there is John. Everyone, this is y/n.”

At the mention of your name, the bassist whipped his head around to look at you. It was him. It was John Deacon. John Deacon, your friend all throughout grade school. Your friend that you ditched, and then felt bad about it for the entire year following your mistake.

“Lovely?” He asked face full of surprise and happiness.

“Deaky?” You replied back, just as surprised and happy as your old friend.

You ran to him and jumped into his arms, and he tightly held you as he picked you up and spun you around.

“You’re here?! What are you doing here love! It's been a year! You look amazing! How’s school and-” John was speaking a mile a minute. He probably had millions of questions for you, though that was understandable considering the way you left things. His arms were still around you as you two stood pressed against each other.

You cut him off, laughing. “John, John! I can only answer so many questions love! Why of course I’m here! I met Freddie at school! He’s been my saving grace over the last year. You look wonderful too! School’s just fine. You know, school.” You laughed, nervously. Hoping to avoid the topic of your parents. Your parents. You’d just realized you hadn’t spoken to them or seen them in over a year. What a dreadful thought.

Brian and Roger only saw you from behind as you and John stood intertwined. Roger sat on his bass drum, dumbfounded at the interaction happening in front of him, while Brian started to put two and two together, realizing you were the girl he entitled “the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen” in December.

You turned around to say hello to Brian and Roger and formally introduce yourself, but as you turned around Brian loudly gasped, confusing you. Brian nudged Roger as he still sat there clueless, just happy to see a pretty girl in front of him. “What was that for, mate?” Roger whined as Brian quickly flashed his eyes between you, Freddie, and your fur coat. You saw a lightbulb go off in Rogers’ brain as he remarked, “Oh. My. God.” and shook Brian’s arm with a huge smile.

You stood in front of John, completely confused at the situation unfurling in front of you. Both men quickly stood up and rushed toward you.

“Hi, I’m Roger. Roger Taylor.”

“Hello love, I’m Brian.”

They said simultaneously, Roger with a cocky smirk and Brian with an endearing smile. Then, both realizing they spoke at the same time, quickly turned their heads at each other, flashed a look of disbelief and anger, and started quietly bickering. You found their actions quite adorable, and let out an airy laugh which immediately stopped their feud, making them look at you intently.

“Hi dears,” you said, still chuckling, “I’m y/n. Pleasure to finally meet you! I came to one of your Smile concerts with Freddie.” you smiled.

To your amuse, both men stuttered, unable to form a sentence. John looked on, trying to piece together what was happening, yet also getting jealous at his two new band mates for flirting with you. Though he hadn’t seen you in a year, and planned to ask you out two August’s ago, he still hadn’t gotten over you. Now that you were back in his life, he was going to make sure you stayed.

“Oh I know. Couldn’t forget you love.” Roger finally managed to say, while Brian stuttered,

“Y-you’re absolutely gorgeous.” And immediately hitting himself in the head.

You laughed again, “Well thank you both! Especially you Brian.” You placed a hand on his chest as you walked toward the other side of the room toward Freddie who was sitting on the piano bench, laughing hysterically at the situation in front of him. As soon as you got close to him, he grabbed your arm and yanked you down next to him.

“You know John?!” He whisper screamed.

“Freddie! That’s John.” You responded back in the same tone. The three boys watched your whisper-argument with curiosity.

“Well I know that darling! But how do you know him!”

“Fred. It’s. J o h n. John my best friend who’s heart I broke right before I came to college!”

Freddie let out a loud gasp and covered his mouth, leaving you two laughing hysterically for a moment, and then you turned back to your important discussion.

“And your friends, Brian and Roger, are completely gawking over me!”

“Oh I know darling! It’s quite hilarious! John likes you too, you know. I can tell by the way he looks at you” Freddie whispered, nudging your shoulder.

“Oh hush, he does not!”

“So does, darling. This is going to be quite interesting.” He smirked.

Brian cleared his throat, catching yours and Freddie’s attention. “So, um, how exactly do you two know each other?”

“Oh!” you perkily responded. “We live together!” You said, grabbing Fred’s hand and smiling at him.

“Fuck.” Roger muttered under his breath, yet audible enough for the room to hear.

“Oh! No! It’s not like that!” You said, letting go of Freddie’s hand, both of you laughing.

“No darlings, not like that at all.” Freddie added.

“Freddie’s my best friend. He helped me through some really rough patches, and I him, so he ended up moving into my dorm, and now we’re entirely inseparable.” You assured.

“That used to be me.” John said, sadly.

“Oh Deaky,” You said, walking to his side. “We’ll get there again, I promise.”

“Yes dear, very well. Say you also need to talk to him and explain things soon!” Freddie chipped in.

“Freddie!” You said, turning to him. Eyes wide and fuming with an, ‘are you kidding me?’ Look.

“Hold on love, hold on.” Roger interjected. “Deaky? You call him Deaky?” Roger smiled.

The other three members laughed at your nickname, and Freddie shouted “We’re so taking that! What an amazing nickname! I’m so glad I dragged you with me today! This is like watching a sit-com from over here in my nice cozy piano corner.” Brian, Roger, and Freddie were still in a bout of hysterics when John interjected,

“Well, I always found it quite endearing.” He said, quiet as a mouse. His body language said he was dreadfully nervous. Was it from the situation, or from you?

The other three stopped instantly. “What do you mean, always John?” Brian asked.

“Well y/n’s always called me Deaky, and I always called her Lovely. You know why? Remember that song, Isn’t She Lovely? Well, the description in that song is just her.” John smiled at you. “She’s an amazing violinist, that’s actually what she’s going to school for, right?” John asked you.

“Yes! Oh I couldn’t change my major for the world. Violin performance. I hope to be in a symphony or something one day. It’s truly my passion.” You explained to Brian and Roger.

“And if I may interject,” Freddie began.

“Well you’re going to anyways, so get on with it.” You said sarcastically, earning a laugh from your admirers.

“Man, cats and dogs you two, eh?” Roger said.

“Yes darling but I’m the cat.” Freddie proclaimed, sitting up as straight as possible, extremely proud of his friends analogy, and clinging to it as some sort of defense from the earful he was sure to get when the two of you got home.

“Get on with it Fred!” You said, clearly annoyed.

“Oh! Right! Well, Roger, you were saying it annoys you when Brian plays his guitar in your apartment sometimes, and Brian, I’m almost positive you said the same about Roger and his drums. But with y/n? It’s not like that one bit. I’ve never heard anyone play like that. It’s mesmerizing. Absolutely angelic. Sometimes I ask her to play just so I can fall asleep. She’s really a true talent.” His compliments cleared away your annoyance, and filled your heart with smiles. Though he got on your nerves, Freddie truly was the angel in your life.

“Well, I’d love to hear you play one time, y/n. That is, only if you’re up to it.” Brian said, and you nodded in approval of his proposal. “But say, John, you never did really get into how you two knew each other?”

“Y/n and I went to primary school all the way through high school together. We lived quite close together too, always were good friends.” You noticed his emphasis on the word were, and it made your stomach drop. His tone then turned more pushy. It showed how hurt he was. “We grew up in the small, cute town of Leicester. I love it. Though I guess it’s not big enough for some.” John said, glaring your way.

“John, please stop.” You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear as a tear fell down your face.

He ignored your request. “Well, we were the closest of friends, until our last day. Was actually my birthday, in fact, and her last day before college too. And well, let’s just say out of respect we haven’t seen each other, talked to each other, or written to each other since.” He said angrily, pushing his point through each sentence. He was trying to prove how hurt he was.

At this point you were completely silently crying, yet the tears fell down your face profusely. Freddie stood protectively, and slowly walked toward the four of you, but was unsure of how to handle the situation. “John please. You know it’s not like that.” You said, voice full of disbelief at the things he was saying to you, and crossing your arms for some sort of protection. But he wasn’t done.

“I visit Leicester frequently. Love to see everyone I grew up with. Say y/n, how are your parents? They doing alright? Handling everything swell? Where’d you go for your annual summer trip.” John smiled, knowing he got his message through to you, and probably everyone in the room, yet everyone saw through him to how hurt he really was. Although, his last four questions were your breaking point.

You threw him a look of disbelief and hurt, and you saw his smirk fade and eyes soften, yet wide in realization of what he just said. You stared at him for a moment more, let out a breath of disgust and turned, storming for your coat to flee out the door. You saw Freddie instantly step to follow you. “Don’t follow me right now, Freddie.” You warned.

As you reached your coat, Freddie put his hand on your shoulder. Which you immediately brushed off. “Fred, leave me alone.” You spat out through your tears, which were flowing uncontrollably. You put on your jacket, and stormed to the door. Yet Freddie, being the devoted eternal best friend he was, followed quickly in your footsteps and reached to open the door for you, which made you absolutely livid.

“Farrokh Bulsara! Stop! Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you right now!” You screamed through your tears, which left Freddie motionless as you turned around and slammed the door in his face.

Freddie turned back toward the boys, and saw John sitting in the window crying. Though he was furious with him, he understood why he did what he did. He was extremely hurt by the actions you pulled months prior, and had probably spoken to your parents in one of his visits home, and could see how they were hurting too. Brian and Roger just sat there clueless, yet Roger had a fire in his eye that gave Freddie the impression he was going to punch John. He broke the silence.

“I know all about this situation. Heard about it more than I’d like to admit, but I want you two to know that our Johnny boy is not at fault here. We’re his actions wrong? Yes. Darling, you were a little harsh, but considering the situation, she had it coming. I just don’t think she realized how hurt you are, and when it all came out she perceived it as hatred. It was too much for her to handle all at once. This is why I said you two need to talk.” Freddie said, his last sentence filled with anger.

“Right now though John, I’d appreciate it if you’d come sit here across from me. I need to fill you in.” Freddie's protectiveness was coming out. John humbly got up from his recluse location and slowly meandered to the seat he was instructed to sit in.

“Darlings?” he addressed Brian and Roger. “Could one of you go find her?” His eyes pleaded how worried he was, and Brian pulled Roger to the side.

“Rog, I’ll go find her, but you’ve gotta stay here.” He warned.

“Why do you get to go after the pretty girl Brian. Not fair to me, ya know. I haven’t had a girl in weeks!”

“And I haven’t had one for months! But this is beside the point right now Rog. If they get in a fight, you can break it up better than I can. And one of us should stay so that way we can judge John’s character and see if it’s actually not his fault, as Freddie says. I vote you to stay back.”

Roger paused for a moment, taking in what Brian said. “Alright fine.” He resigned.

“But pay attention. I’d like to know the situation at hand.” He said, putting on his coat and walking out the door.

Roger walked back over to the two seated men, and leaned on the wall in between them. “Brian went to get ‘er. She’ll be alright Fred.”

“Alright then let’s get started. I already know the whole situation, so tell me how you’ve been feeling, Deacon, and then I’ll fill you in on y/n’s point of view.” He said, with a renewed tone of voice in his normal, calming tone.

“Wait, wait I’m sorry, before you start. Y/n called you Farrokh?” Roger asked.

“Oh shut up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian walked the entire premise, dumbfounded as to where you could be, and then thought to check the biology garden which was behind the music school. He originally didn’t see you, and thought he would be going back to the band, until he heard a sniffle, and saw it coming from a white furry blob sitting among the pumpkins, and headed your way.

“Hey Cinderella, didn’t make it home from the ball in time?” He joked, and you looked up at him, and chuckled through your tears. He sat down next to you, both of your backs leaning on the large pumpkin behind you, and he put an arm around your shoulders, with you immediately burying your head in his chest, and continued crying. Brian rubbed his hand on your back, whispering “Shh” in an attempt to calm you down.

A couple minutes later after you had finished crying, you looked up at him and said,

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

“I know. That’s fine. I’m just here to be with you. Ensure you’re not alone.”

A couple more minutes of silence.

“Once you find out you’ll think less of me. You’re destined to find out.” You sighed.

Brian chuckled. “Love, that’s not possible.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed again, nervous to tell you. “Y/n, you’re even perfect when you cry. Not many people can say that.”

“That’s impossible, Bri. I-”

“Love, you know what I said when I first saw you?”

“Yes, you said, ‘Hello love, I’m Brian.’” You laughed in that airy, angelic laugh of yours.

God, that laugh. Brian thought. That laugh could stop my heart and I’d be okay with it. “Not today dear, way back in December, Roger noticed you dancing before our show and called me over,”

“Called you over for what?”

“Oh, well- uh” he let out a nervous laugh “that’s beside the fact. You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

The October wind blew your hair out of your face, and you shook your head no.

“I thought, ‘that’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen’. Swear to god. I’m an awful liar. I’m not joking with you love, and even though ten months have passed, I still stand by my statement. No one else has ever taken my breath away like that.” He smiled at you, and laughed because of how nervous he was.

You smiled at him in disbelief of the words he was saying, and a single tear streamed down your face, though not a tear of sadness, a tear of happiness.

“Oh no no no love don’t cry again! I’m so sorry what did I do?” he said frantically, reaching a hand up to brush away your tear.

You chuckled again, and grabbed his wrist and pulled it down from your face, taking his hand in yours. “Oh nothing at all Brian, in fact you did everything right. What you said…made me so happy. It’s just- no one has ever said ever said that about me before. It was so sweet.” You looked up at him, smiling.

“You’re joking, no one’s told you how gorgeous you are before?”

You shook your head.

“Well maybe you’ve just been in the wrong place your whole life.” he smiled.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been saying that for a while now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Brian re entered the room to find the three guys laughing like old friends.

“It must have gone well” Brian bent down and whispered in your year, causing you to giggle. At the sound of a new noise in the room, John, Freddie, and Roger looked at you and Brian intently, and the room quieted.

Freddie hesitantly walked up toward you like a scared puppy that was afraid to be scolded, and stopped about 3 feet away from you, warily looking at you to see if you’d push him away again.

“Come here Freddie.” You smiled with open arms and he engulfed you in a large hug.

“It’s all going to be just fine. I’ve made sure of it.” He said.

“I’m gonna go Fred.” You bashfully admitted.

“Nonsense! You shouldn’t walk alone and you must hear us! Give me your opinion! Help think of a band name! After all, what are eternal best friends for!”

“Okay, okay.” You resigned.

As you broke your hug, you declared, “Now, after an hour and a half of drama, why don’t you do what we all came her for, and what I came to hear! Play me things! I want to hear what you’ve got.” You smiled, sitting on the ground right in front of Freddie’s mic stand to ensure you got an absolute front row seat.

They played an old Smile song called Doing Alright, and about 4 covers of artists like The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Elvis Presley, and you paid attention to each of them, with all of their skills shining through. You understood what Fred meant now. All of them are amazing players, Tim just wasn’t the right person to unify Roger and Brian. But together, the four of them produced an amazing sound. It was something you knew was just perfect. As they finished, you stood from your sitting position and clapped.

“Bravo! You play wonderfully together! I’m so glad I came for this!” You said, hugging them each. Besides Freddie, whose hugs you were used to, Roger’s was the most passionate, though John’s was very nervous, short, and shy, although that made sense with the situation at hand.

You chatted with Freddie as they packed up, though he had the least to do and you were ready to leave quickly. You said your goodbyes to everyone, and headed out the door.

John left about 10 minutes after you and Freddie, leaving Brian and Roger to close up the room.

“She obviously likes you more right now mate, ‘cause you were her knight in shining armor. It’s not fair Brian. Though watch out, I’m gonna get ‘er soon. ‘ve got a plan.” Roger said jokingly, although he was entirely serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Freddie had been walking hand-in-hand on your way back home, though neither of you said a word. About 10 minutes into your journey you broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Freddie. For the way I acted earlier. I was hurt, and just wanted to be left alone and didn’t express it correctly. You know how much you mean to me, and it’s just how I am sometimes. I know that’s no justification, but it’s the truth. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you worry bout a thing, darling. We’re just fine. I’ve lived with you for over a year, and you don’t think I know your crazy antics?” he chuckled. “You’re absolutely fine. John was being a Class A dick, how else were you supposed to act? Do I think there was the right place? Absolutely not. But it happened, and I hate to not take your side, but you know you had it coming.”

“I know.” you guiltily admitted

Freddie stopped walking. “Come here love.”

You buried your head in his chest, and wrapped you in a tight hug.

“I could never be mad at you. We’re eternal best friends.” He quietly admitted.

“Eternal best friends forever.” You responded, smiling into his multicolored coat.

“You know, you smell like my mom in this coat. It’s quite odd.” Freddie admitted, which broke your hug, ruined the moment, and left the two of you hysterically laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About two hours after you got home, you and Freddie were both doing school work on your bed. You were adding some markings to a violin solo while he drew a new design, when you heard a knock on the door. You looked at Freddie, hoping to coax him into getting it with a look, but he just smiled as if he had a sixth sense as to who was behind that door. Seeing as he wasn’t budging, you opened the door, and the sight nearly took your breath away. It was John, holding a bouquet of flowers with a little plastic thing in the middle of them that read “I’m sorry”.

“Oh John!” Freddie said. “So good to see you! Come right on in, I was actually just going to the coffee shop to work on my drawing further. I’ll bring you back our normal, love.” And with that he quickly put his drawing and pencils in his messenger bag, threw his jacket on, and just before he closed the door behind himself he winked at you. Of course Freddie had something to do with this. How would John have gotten to your exact dorm without him. His people skills were astounding.

“John! Thank you for the flowers, you’re too sweet.” You took them from him, and pulled him in for a hug. “Please, come sit!” You motioned him over to your bed.

“I truly am sorry, Lovely. You were my best friend, and then to just have you out of my life like that was a complete shock to say the least. All the hurt I was feeling just came out, and not nearly in any logical fashion. I was hurtful, and I’m so sorry. I know it was a funny way of showing it, but I am. Freddie told me your point of view, and I guess I understand now. He told me how this was your dream, and of how well you were doing in school, and even how unsupportive your parents were even before you game here, and especially how they were when you called them at Christmas. I didn’t realize how stressful things were. I’m sorry for bringing them up. I understand why you did things the way you did now, but I’m just hoping you don’t still want me out of your life. Freddie said how you’d been crying about not talking to me, and just as much as you’ve been crying, I’ve been crying more. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you, but I was afraid I’d anger you. I didn’t know what to do. I just want you back in my life, Lovely. I need you. Life is hard without your best friend. I know Freddie took my-”

You were softly crying at his words, not in a bad or hurt way, just overwhelmed with emotion. “Deaky, Freddie could never take your place. I’ve known him for a year, I’ve known you since primary school. We’re a different kind of friendship. I realized I messed up with you in my first 2 weeks of school, and was crying my eyes out on the daily, wanting to call you, yet I thought you’d be furious with me, so I made myself hold off. I know it was a bitchy move. I’m just hoping you’ll forgive me?”

John laughed through his tears. “I forgave you as soon as you left me y/n. Was I hurt? Yeah. What you saw today was all my hurt coming out. But I couldn’t stay mad at you. Not then, not now, not ever.” he smiled.

You hurriedly wrapped him in a huge hug, both of you softly crying on contact, just so happy to have your friend back.

“I want my Deaky back. I’m not pushing you away again. God, I don’t think I could handle it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John stayed 2 hours longer until Freddie returned home with a white chai latte for you both, and said his goodbyes. You were so happy to have had that time to catch up over the last year with your John, that you were practically dancing around the dorm, which made Freddie smile.

“I know you helped with that, Fred. Gave him our address I mean. I don’t mind in the slightest bit. It made me so happy to see him. So I guess this is a thank you.” You smiled, taking a sip of your latte.

“You didn’t fuck him while I was gone, did you? Well if you did, good job love. But I’m just wondering because it’d explain your giddiness.”

You almost spat out your coffee. “Freddie! No I did not have sex with John and I could not! Well, I- no!” You laughed, and he joined in with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two nights later, a Wednesday, you were both settled down and had turned on the TV Freddie’s parents gave you two, and at about 8:45 heard a rustling under the door. There was a folded piece of paper on the floor with something written on it. Freddie saw how much the occurrence freaked you out, and got up to grab the paper, and looked through the peephole, but no one was there.

“It’s addressed to you, darling.” He said, handing it over to you, as he sat back next to you and put his head on your shoulder to read the note with you.

It read “y/n y/l/n” on the front in chicken scratch, and you unfolded it to find the following note.

“Dear y/n,

I’ve made plans for us to go to my dads beach house west in South Cornwall right on the cliff overlooking Porthcurno beach. There’s a heat wave coming, so weather will actually be summer warm, especially there. I just wanted to get to know ya’ better. Compared to the rest, I feel like I’m missing out. Only get my number from Fred and call if you have unmovable plans that you can’t miss, and can’t go, and by unmovable plans I don’t mean homework. :)

I’ll drive. Pick you up Friday at 3 (Freddie said you didn’t have any classes)

It’s a date.

Your favourite band member,

R. Taylor ”

You gasped and held the letter to your chest after you read it a second time to make sure you weren’t dreaming, while Freddie was giggling in your ear.

“You knew about this?!” You exclaimed, smiling.

“Of course! I had to! Poor Roggie-boy was just so endearing, I couldn’t resist! You’re clearly not mad, are you?”

“No!” You laughed. “I’m excited! He’s attractive!” you admitted, and thought about the last line of the note.

“It’s a date.”

Well, you surely hoped it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed!! Are you as torn on who you like best as I am? Shoot me an ask and lmk. As always, just reach out if you wanna be added to the taglist. I CANT WAIT FOR THE AESTHETIC BOARD also... next chapter is beach w/ roger :)))))))))))))))

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @idontbelievethiss , @deakysmisfire , @bismillahnah , @queer-heart-attack , @everything-you-dont-wanna-be

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woorenergy · 5 years

Text

deeper into this mess amirite

sooo I guess this is part 2 of this thing I wrote yesterday. You should read the first part, otherwise this one won’t make sense to you

Warnings : Arguing/yelling, angst, a bit of crying. Lmk if I need to tag anything else !

Words : ~1,350 words

@joygaytrash @lovelylogicality, idk if you two still want to be tagged, so just in case~

/////

It took the fusion- Lomus, oh, a long while before admitting Patton's behavior was an issue for them. They ignored it as much as they could, always finding something else to think about... until it was too much. They missed him so badly. Part of them had known and talked to him for so long, joking with him, working by his sides, learning to appreciate every aspect of him. And it started to affect both of their components. Still, splitting up became a rare occurrence now. Logan felt like he couldn't survive without being as close as possible to Remus, and maybe, just maybe, the creative side confessed one night that he shared the same thoughts. Though he'd just brush it off when Logan tried to ask more questions about it.

Lomus came to the same conclusion as them ; they had to talk to Patton before the fusion really became dangerous for them.

As Patton was hiding when they walked in the same room, the only solution was to directly go to his “place”, where he was most of the time. This wasn't the best idea, as the moral side could simply tell them to leave, but what else could they possibly do ?

That was why the fusion was rising up in Patton's living room, to their usual spot- Logan's usual spot, actually, beside the stairs. They spotted Patton in the kitchen, humming to himself as he was cooking something. The smell was strangely familiar to them.

Shaking their head, Lomus took a few steps towards Patton and cleared their throat to make him aware of their presence.

“Wh- oh. It's you.” Patton muttered as he turned around to face them.

Lomus frowned. “You seem kind of disappointed to see me, darling.”

They thought they would've died on the spot because of the dark glare Patton gave them. “You're not allowed to call me 'darling' or any other pet name you may have in mind.”

Ouch. That one hurt.

“I just wanted to talk to you-”

“So talk we did. Have a nice day, Lomus.”

Lomus hated the way Patton spitted out their name, like it was some kind of insult he was almost disgusted to say out loud. They didn't move from his spot and, instead, approached the other side.

“Just tell me what's wrong. Why have you been avoiding me this whole time ?”

Patton's eyes widened for a second, then he slowly shook his head. “Nothing's wrong. Go mind your own business somewhere else.”

“I'm surprised Deceit hasn't popped up yet.” Lomus scoffed, a bit of mockery in their tone.

“Fine. Fine ! You really want to know what's going on !?”

“Yes, that's literally all I'm asking for !”

Patton sighed and quickly turned the stove off before putting a lid over whatever he was cooking a couple minutes ago. Then, he was facing the fusion again with an indefinable expression. No matter how short he was compared to the other, he didn't seem scared or even slightly impressed.

“I'm mad at you- both of you. I'm mad because you decided to fuse all of sudden and didn't worry about how that would make Thomas feel. Do you even care about his well-being ?”

“Of course I do.” Lomus wasn't so sure anymore.

“It doesn't feel like it to me. You two are acting so selfishly, and- Logan, my god, I thought you wanted what's best for Thomas. Why are you even associating with someone like him ?”

Lomus' lips twitched in a grimace at the sound of their component's name, and the way Patton even avoided talking about Remus. It didn't feel right coming from his mouth- or at all. They considered themselves as a whole person, not just two people's fusion ; and the mere mention of Logan's name just sounded strange. That wasn't them.

“Stop trying to talk to my components and talk to me instead. I'm right here, Patton.”

“Well, this fusion is unhealthy and pointless !”

“You take that back this instant.” They growled through gritted teeth, clenching one of their fists. “You have no idea how much Logan and Remus need each other !”

“But isn't Thomas more important to you ? Why do you even need to be fused all the time !? You know permanent fusions aren't good for anyone here !”

“What does it matter to you, huh !?” Lomus took a step ahead, staring intensely at the other. “You don't get to talk for me, nor for my components !” Another step. Patton was now trapped between the fusion and his back hitting the kitchen counter. “None of this should bother you in the first place ! Why do you always-”

“I'm just jealous, okay !?”

The room, previously filled with angry and desperate shouting, was now as quiet as it was before Lomus' appearance. Patton had slammed a hand against his mouth as soon as he spoke these words, his body slightly shaking as his other hand gripped the edge of the counter to prevent himself from falling.

Lomus stayed silent as well, processing Patton's words. There was no way he actually meant it. Patton never got jealous, Patton was always proud of everyone here, no matter what ; and yet, they knew they were wrong. He was the embodiment of Thomas' feelings- all feelings. But it seemed like they couldn't quite accept it.

“I...” Patton snapped his eyes closed. “I hate it. The way you took Logan away from us. He told me how unstable you could be, and still- he came back to Remus every time. I don't understand. Why would he do that to himself ?”

Lomus had no answer to that.

“I'm jealous of your relationship. I just- I can't look at you and be happy for you, no matter how hard I try. And trust me when I tell you I really, really tried.”

“Does that mean you hate me ?”

Patton smiled sadly as tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. “Of course not, you idiot. I would never hate you, even if I wanted to. I just...” He quickly wiped his eyes and sighed. “I don't know how to feel about you. I don't know if I should ignore you, or try to learn more about you. I'm so confused right now.”

“Aren't we all ?”

Lomus hadn't expect to make Patton laugh today.

“You're right. Hey, Lomus ?” The fusion tilted their head, kneeling so they could be eyes-level to Patton. “I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you from the beginning. I was so angry at you I kept avoiding you thinking it would solve the problem.”

“And you just ended up creating another problem. Nice try.”

Next thing they knew, Patton fell on his knees as well, his forehead against his shoulder. Logan's awkwardness about human connection and Remus' usual habit to touch literally everyone everywhere gave the fusion a hard time to move properly. So they simply decided to pat his back with one hand.

“You know I wouldn't mind your presence, right ?” Lomus whispered.

“Huh ?”

“I wouldn't mind you staying around if you really want to. Actually,” their hand moved to Patton's hair, “I think I'd really like having you with me.”

“Oh.” Patton sighed, his voice sounding a bit shaky. His arms came around Lomus' waist. “I think I'd like that too.”

Neither of them knew how long they stayed here, sitting on the kitchen floor, but Patton knew it was worth it when Lomus finally squeezed him back, their two pairs of arms around him as they left a shy, yet loving kiss on the top of his head. Lomus still didn't know what to think- and they damn knew Patton had no idea either. They were both lost, confused sides, trying to figure out their stupid feelings.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #fusion #fanfic #fanfiction #text

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bitchsexuality · 5 years

Text

@animaliae

ok first off i’m sorry i took so long to reply!! i’ve been busy in the most tedious way possible so my brain’s not exactly my best friend right now. second off: THANK U SO MUCH these were so fun to answer!!

i’m putting all of these in the same post because i started talking and i could not Shut The Up, and i think one atrociously long post is better than four long posts when it comes to like, scrollability. scrollpastability? scroll-Something. and putting it under a readmore too for the same reasons

SO, from top to bottom:

weirdest character idea for D-N-D:

it’s an idea i’ve already had because i can’t come up with anything right now dksjfgbd, but

once i made a druid for a D//N/D-based CRPG who only cast spells when they gave him something edible (in theory ofc, the game didn’t let me eat my summoned bears... thankfully...), so i ended up with nothing but goodberries and several animal summoning spells. then i proceeded to cheat my way through the game, which defeated the point sdfgsd, but it was still fun concept-wise

also made me spend too much time wondering if the entangle spell’s vines could be eaten. i mean you can’t eat the WHOLE thing but maybe you could like, munch on it a little, or try to slurp it up like a noodle. it wouldn’t be tasty, it wouldn’t be easy, and it most definitely would not be healthy, but it’s like. the principle of the thing

if ur asking yourself WHY i did that… well there aren’t THAT many D/ND-based CRPGS out there and i’d already played that one —several times, in fact— so i wanted to try something different :0

i mean it’s not THAT weird tbh, but he’s the only OC i can think of right now that soooooort of fits? and my brain is like, a tundra of creativity at the moment. a deep tar pool that absorbs all inspiration and drags it, kicking and screaming, to its viscous doom. well you get the idea. or i hope you do because i sure fucking don’t

ideal ending for one of my characters:

hmmmm for like, original fiction characters i more or less have all their endings planned out? most of them ARE ideal because i am fully in control of their destinies and i am also a softhearted lidle bich who prefers stories with relatively uplifting/happy endings. or tbh even the ones that aren’t technically happy are still ideal in terms of character arcs, development, etc

(i might be giving myself way too much credit there though skdjgbdksjfg)

and —though this is super unlikely and mostly just me deceiving myself at this point— i do want to publish what i’m working on rn, so talking about endings would be a spoiler for something that does not exist and probably never will outside of my idiot fool head. so i’m gonna talk about an old OC that i’m not doing anything with anymore!

her name was elina and her entire deal was that she came from a family of very powerful witches who owned a, uh, i guess you could call it an archive? or a library?? idk, it was just an ABSURDLY large collection of magic-related books, and it pretty much contained all known arcane knowledge (though come think of it, “all known arcane knowledge” can’t have been THAT much because the archive was just one room. a huge fucking monster of a room yeah but like. still just One)

so anyway, her family members were very dutiful + responsible when it came to the archivelibraryroom thing, but they were also too traditional for her tastes? like they didn’t bother practicing/using magic, or experimenting, or looking for anything outside of books; they only cared about written things, and even then they did nothing but get the Very Important Books, put them in the archivelibraryroom and forget about them completely

then elina ran into a group of other magic-users who were investigating a weird phenomenon in her hometown, and she asked her family about it, but they essentially were like “oh if it doesn’t affect the books we don’t care lol anyway it’s your turn to clean the archivelibrary now”

but yeah i’m sure y’all can tell where this is going kjdfgbd elina was the typical YA protag in that she was super rebellious, so she turned her back on her family and left her house to help the group of inconveniently yet stereotypically teenage magic-users, made friends, learned about magic, blah blah blah

the issue is that i never gave that story an ending? like the closest thing to it was a vague “uhhhh elina goes back home to find the archivelibrary is burning down and pulls some kind of mysterious water magic out of her ass to save it; then her family apologizes, they begin to respect her and she stays with them to keep caring for the archivelibrary, But With A Progressive Twist”

the issue was that after writing around two chapters i realized i didn’t actually Have a plot, so i didn’t know what story that ending would be... ending... and since i couldn’t think of anything + i wasn’t THAT attached to the characters anyway i just gave up on it

but now that i’m thinking of it again, just for the sake of ending the Story That Never Was, i feel like making her earn the respect of her family just because she saved the books + proved she actually cares about that too is, idk, shallow? out of character?

because she believed that her family’s fixation on history + Neatly Documented stuff was holding them back and making things worse for everyone. she left her home behind because her ideals re.: magic —that it should grow and change to fit the context + people’s needs, and not the other way around— were so strong

OOF THIS IS GETTING SO FUCKING LONG KSDJGB i’m just gonna stop here and say: elina’s new ideal ending is pretty much that while she ends up in friendly terms with her family —because, in spite of their fundamental disagreements, they never hurt her— she doesn’t go back home and chooses to travel around the world instead, helping people in whichever way possible and freely sharing her knowledge with anyone who’s willing to listen and, at the same time, learning from them

i mean, the concept’s not too original ksjdbg just something i thought of super quick, and that’s just a half-assed attempt at closure for an OC i made when i was like… 9

headcanons about my favs:

ok this one’s hard because i’m not into any like… fandom things right now? i haven’t found anything that rly interests me or that i could see myself being passionate about, which sucks because i do kinda miss being into stuff with Established Content :(

so i’ve been focusing on my OCs + original stories and such. and i’m not sure if OC headcanons count as headcanons because i control canon so technically everything i come up with IS canon. then again it’s headcanon too because it’s a canon from my head because that’s where ideas come from. okay wait i’m not making any cents here x

but uhh knowing me i might think of something right after publishing this, so if that happens i’ll come back and edit this post :0

also just saying but if any of y’all know of something i could get into then lmk, i’m open to suggestions! preferably free stuff though... i’m beset by capitalisms

a favorite scene that i loved:

i can’t remember any in particular right now, either from my #content or somebody else’s SDFKJGBDF god my mind 😔 well i mean i’m gonna be a little bit full of meself and say that i’ve written things that i really like, especially imagery-wise, but i Also want to publish those someday… like i’ve also written original/OC-related stuff that i don’t plan on publishing, but i’m not THAT proud of them tbh :/

i was —emphasis on was— trying to write a short story about jasna (one of my D-N/D OCs, a cleric of oghma) that never really went anywhere, but i did post a snippet on my OC blog, and that’s what i hate the least out of all my recent attempts at writing? so i’m just gonna put it here again ig sdfgs (not actually linking to the OC blog post because it’s kind of a mess rn, i need to fix the theme + clean it up a bit)

if you got this far and read all of this nonsensical verbal monster: i love u with all my heart and i would legitimately die for u.

#otherworldly whispers #hope it's OK that i'm mentioning u btw!!!#just so u know i wasn't like. ignoring you or anything dsfkgsd #also if i'd answered the question directly it'd have shown up in ur activity feed anyway right? so technically it's the same #... i think...#long post #im talking a LONG ass fucking post that's not a joke or an exaggeration this bitch is LONG #text heavy #food ment - . / (Kind of? not really????)#family ment - . /#fire ment - . /#again kind of not really #ask me to tag - . /#bc im not sure how else to tag this skjdfb

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sephcnes-blog · 5 years

Text

DANIELLE CAMPBELL —— Well, if it isn’t PERSEPHONE BLACKWOOD, the HUFFLEPUFF superstar. For those of you who don’t know HER, you can spot them sitting with the other SEVENTH years. Most people think that they’re EXPRESSIVE and NURTURING, but they can also seem pretty ENTITLED and VAIN. Sometimes people call them the EBULLIENT. Sure, they’re a MUGGLEBORN, but that doesn’t define them.

hello hello it me your girl rhia coming at ya with a new muse that i’ve already fallen in love with lmao. this is kinda long so i’m sorry about that but anyway if you wanna read her full bio & stats, those can be found HERE, along with her pinterest HERE, but the real fun stuff can be found under the cut !

BACKGROUND

Born February 10th, 1960 in Edinburgh, Scotland.

In the Muggle World, the Blackwood name is one that everyone has at least heard of. Persephone’s father, and many men who came before him, were all well noted politicians.

Her mother, is also a politician, though she is one of less caliber. She met Persephone’s father, Edmund, through her work. The two have never really been in love, their marriage is based on appearances alone. There’s an unspoken agreement between the two that they remain together, they may see others outside of their marriage.

Being the youngest of the two Blackwood sisters, Persephone was brought up receiving everything a young girl could ever want with just a pleading look. Her sister, however, got the short end of the stick, burdened with responsibilities that Persephone never had to deal with.

The two sisters somehow managed to remain close for a good portion of their childhood. Whenever Persephone’s magic manifested, it was always Thalia who took the blame.

Although she had originally made the conscious decision to do this, she resented Persephone in a way for it, wishing she had a normal sister who wouldn’t do such things. This resentment caused a rift in the girls’ relationship.

As she reached age eleven, Persephone was greeted with a man with a pointy beard and half moon glasses, who wore funny clothing unlike anything Persephone had ever seen before in her life. He explained to her, and her family that she was a witch and she would go to Hogwarts to study magic there.

Her parents were Catholics, and were shocked when they heard the word ‘witch’. To them, any form of witchcraft was considered evil & Satanic, and how could poor little Persephone be capable of such awful things ?

Thalia knew better than her parents and knew what the old man said to be true. Though their relationship at this time was complicated, she still stood up for her younger sister.

Reluctantly, Edmund & Amelia allowed her daughter to attend the school, as long as she came back for breaks & was able to maintain she was at some other elite boarding school.

LIFE AT HOGWARTS

Her time at Hogwarts was not how she expected it to be, at all. Persephone walked through the Great Hall expecting her name to have some substance when interacting with the other students. However, to her disappointment, her blood-status held her popularity down.

She became acquainted with the term ‘mud-blood’ early on, and had to learn how to be humble.

Thankfully, her house was one that she felt she could belong to, where she wouldn’t be judged simply because of where she came from. These people, along with a few others outside of Hufflepuff, would become her real family.

There are only a few places on the Hogwarts grounds where Persephone can be found. Most of her free time is spent either in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, or with Professor Kettleburn aiding him with whatever magical creatures he has stashed away. The petite brunette has never been good in any sort of practical magic, such as D.A.D.A. or even Charms, but she finds that she excels in classes such as Potions, Herbology, and of course Care of Magical Creatures.

Made herself an easy target for harassment & bullying by being so open about her blood-status at the beginning, but she remained confident & never let anyone get her down.

Breaks are always hard for Persephone, because as much as she would love to stay at school, she is forced to return home to her parents and stay there.

PERSONALITY

likes: order, cleanliness, art, painting, money, kindness, compassion, daydreaming, romance, fashion, drinking, partying, attention.

dislikes: chaos, dirt, messes, dishonesty, betrayal, cheaters, laziness, selfishness, bullying, silence, vulnerability.

Whenever the name Persephone Blackwood is ever mentioned in a conversation, there’s a certain image that pops into people’s minds, of a petite brunette well-groomed to perfection. When out of uniform, her style is with the most recent & popular trends. in uniform, although she is less fashionable, she still manages to find a way to accessorize as much as she can. Her face is well decorated, and never wears the same hairstyle twice. appearances are extremely important to her, and would never step outside of her bedroom looking anything less than perfect.

Given that her parents are locked in a loveless marriage, one would assume that Persephone despises the idea of falling in love, but in fact, she’s quite the opposite. She’s a dreamer, and fantasizes about falling in love constantly. She is of the belief that there is someone out there for her, just waiting to fall in love with her. she has a picturesque idea of how love should be, and anyone who falls short of that immediately gets cut out of the picture. Unfortunately, this means she has racked up quite the list of ex-lovers.

Coming from Scotland, she’s got quite an accent, although it’s dulled out a bit after years of travelling with her family, either for work related reasons or vacations.

Although she can be quite entitled & vain at times, she is a fairly easy-going person & gets along with most people ( as long as they can get past her flaws ). The only people she never could see herself getting along with, are those who bully or belittle others, or with previous exes that ended on a poor note.

Persephone is often known for her optimism & cheerful nature. there is rarely an occasion when those around her see her without a smile etched on her features. Those who truly know her, know that she isn’t this way because she’s naturally a happy person, quite the opposite. She spends her time at home being unloved by her parents, whose religion say that she is evil & worship the devil, as well as ignored by her sister because of their childhood together. Even at school, there are times she can’t help but be weighed down by the darkness from those who wish she never existed. Those who are closest to Persephone understand that she acts in such an upbeat manner as a way to cope with these feelings.

She loves art & painting with a passion, though most who know her would never guess it. She uses magic in quite a lot of her works, although hardly anyone has ever seen these creations. Although she does have a very outgoing personality, she can be a very guarded person, and wouldn’t show these to anyone unless she really trusted that person since her paintings are often a very personal thing to her.

Persephone is quite the picky eater, and has been ever since she was a little girl. For an entire year she wouldn’t have anything but chicken nuggets for dinner, no matter how hard her parents tried. Although her palette has expanded a bit since she was a young girl, she has trouble with certain foods. She won’t touch anything with tomato on it, or any sort of beef. Thankfully for her sake, she gets along with the house elves quite well and they make sure she gets exactly the foods that she prefers.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

the entire list can be found here, but i figured i’d put a couple of my faves here as well. and of course, i’m open to plotting anything really.

best friends; these two/three are inseparable, and are always seen together side by side. these are the people she trusts most in her life and would literally do anything for. (possibly 1-2 people for this plot idk she isn’t the type to have a ton of close friends, just a couple that she’d trust)

pen pals; someone seph doesn’t know the identity of, but relates to them on an emotional level. someone she relates to, and writes to whenever able.

exes; ( up to plotting, could either be a bad break up for the angst or just two pals who didn’t work but persephone is the type to have quite a list of exes so um yeah )

ex best friends; the person seph used to be closest to in the world, but lost due to (reasons to be plotted). now when they see each other in class or in the halls, its as if they never knew each other. any conversation shared is filled with an awkward tension.

fake relationship; ( not sure how or why but i love me a fake relationship plot so i’m adding it anyway. could be to piss off her parents or maybe her bc her family is pressuring her to find someone of worth. or maybe even something she can fulfill on your charas side idk just give me all the angsty plots lmao )

anyways, sorry this was long asdhkfhk if you do wanna plot with persephone give this plot a like and i’ll message you either here or on discord ( probs on discord though bc i feel like its easier ??? idk if u have a preference lmk ! )

#novum:intro #━━ ⟢ ғɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ OOC.

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diamondsareapearlsbestfriend · 6 years

Text

Bonely This Gyftmas

finally posting my contribution to the @sorieldiscord (not so) Secret Santa for a Good Clown Pal, @purpleangrywitches !! belated Merry Gyftmas my dude, I hope you like it~~ shoutout to the wonderful @drawingwithgreen13 for helping me out with some parts of this and of course @mintkupocream for organising this exchange for us!! ^w^;; FellSoriel is something I’ve wanted to try for a while now so hopefully this turned out okay! (basically “more cursing and everyone is tsundere” lmao - that’s how you Underfell, right?? anyway yeah feel free to lmk your thoughts etc!! <3)

on AO3

Another Gyftmas in Snowdin – not that it really meant anything, any more than any other “season” did in the Underground. Snow was a permanent fixture, and so was the threadbare pine tree in the centre of town, the only difference being the half-assed decorations and dimly flickering lights draped about its branches, and the kids still young or dumb enough to gather around it and casting hopeful glances at the parcels underneath. If Sans had it in him to care, he might even have felt bad for the little shits, watching the light die in their eyes year after year at the meagre offering, until that one bear who hung around the tree “arranging” the presents all day growled at them til and they beat it.

Other than that, it was same shit, different day – Papyrus didn’t believe in holidays, and as he never tired of harshly but not incorrectly pointing out, Sans did so little that his entire existence was basically one big break. He was more than happy to live up, or down, to his boss’ expectations, taking every opportunity to slip away from his post and deep into the forest where, at least, he had the promise of more interesting company.

“Yo, anyone alive in there?” he asked the door, rapping his phalanges against the ancient wood and sliding into the routine as easily as he did into the snow. “Why did Sally fall off the swing?”

“Oh, now you are here?” The response was curt, even for her. “How profoundly lucky am I to be graced with your presence.”

Sans scoffed, lifting a brow bone as he leaned back against the door; Door Lady was crankier than usual tonight. It was gonna be a fun one. “Geez, lady, someone rattle your chain or what? ‘Scuse me if I missed the memo on the fuckin’...school timetable or whatever this is.”

“Hardly. But you have been stopping by approximately the same time for the last three nights – it is called setting a precedent. And surely even you should know it is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

“Good job it’s just you, then, ain’t it?” Sans snickered as he could practically feel her unamused glare through the thick, battle-dented wood that separated them. “Now do you wanna hear about Sally or what?” (He was actually sorta proud of this one; he’d been saving it for a worthy audience, and those weren’t easy to come by.)

“I suppose,” the lady answered, the slightest hint of a pout in her voice. “Why did she fall off the swing?”

“‘Cause she had no arms.”

“Oh.” A beat went by. “Well, that was a little lacking, even for –“

“Knock knock.”

She huffed an irritable sigh. “Who is there?”

“Dunno, but it ain’t Sally.”

That finally got the reaction he wanted as a snort rumbled through the door, followed by her throaty cackle - long, low and filthy, it sent a shiver of satisfaction through Sans as he chuckled with her. Making her laugh always felt like a victory, somehow. “Oh, how unfortunate,” she drawled, sugary sweet and dripping with contempt for the imaginary kid. “She was one of the lucky ones.”

“Don’t sweat it, she’s totally armless.”

“I suppose that really put her out on a limb.”

“I’d say you gotta hand it to her, but…”

Their snorts and guffaws rang out through the barren forest, sounds it probably didn’t hear often and that definitely would have aroused suspicion, but not many monsters ever wandered this deep into the forest anyway. “All she wants for Gyftmas,” Sans continued, on a roll, “is a break.”

The lady still laughed, but a little less heartily this time. “Oh, is it that time of the year already? I would not know - such things tend to pass one by when every day is much the same as the last one. How nice for those of you with something to celebrate.”

“Yeah, right.” She had a point, Sans had to admit, with a dry, sarcastic snicker. “Don’t mean shit to me either, but I guess it’s somethin’ for the kiddos. ‘Least, til they get old enough to figure out there ain’t no miracle happening any time soon to get us out of this hellhole.”

Weird thing was, he couldn’t even remember being a kid like that himself, a time when he didn’t understand how the world worked - with his HP, he’d had to wise up pretty fast or he’d be long dusted. But he did remember walking hand in hand with Papyrus through the snow - way back when he was still shorter than Sans and either of them might ever have considered such a display acceptable - and how his brother used to getso excited he’d almost tripped over his boots until Sans yanked him upright, and let himself be dragged towards the presents at top speed before they all got snatched away. But before they started, Papyrus would always pause to look up at their pathetic excuse for a tree, his sockets sparkling with hope and wonder as if it was the most amazing thing he’d seen since - well, last Gyftmas, as astounding as the stars they’d never get to see.

Might’ve been the last time Gyftmas meant something.

“Yes, well.” Door Lady gave a dismissive snort, snapping him back to reality. “What use have I for such child’s play? The last few foolish enough to wander through my door...well, suffice to say they are long gone.”

That, somehow, didn’t surprise Sans, but noticing her slightly sharper tone, he decided against pointing it out. “Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe this year one of the suckers that throws themselves down here’ll get lucky enough not to make it, and you got you a real nice traditional Gyftmas dinner.”

She hummed, a long, low noise somewhere between intrigue and what almost sounded like desire. “Mmm, I do hope not. Fresh prey always tastes better when it puts up a little struggle, does it not?”

Not for the first time, Sans wasn’t totally sure whether she was kidding – and he kinda liked it. He was pretty good, usually, at reading people, picking up on the little pauses and stutters that most assumed he was too dumb and/or lazy to notice. It was a good way to survive, being able to see through the bullshit, but it also took some of the fun out of seeing how far he could push it when he knew to the second how close Papyrus was to throwing a steaming plate of lasagna in his face.

Door Lady was...different. Probably helped that he had no idea who or even what kind of monster she was, of course, but even though they’d fallen into a thing of telling jokes and talking shit to pass the time, her mood seemed to swing back and forth a hell of a lot more than the door ever did. Some days he just seemed to irritate her, and she’d snap that if he wasn’t going to entertain her, he might as well go off and not do his job elsewhere. Which, whatever - wasn’t like that was anything Sans didn’t hear on a daily basis anyway, but in a weird way her unpredictability was part of the thrill. Made it all the more satisfying when he did get to hear her laugh. And damn, her laugh...

True to form, she dismissed him not long after that, saying she had business to attend to and she was sure he must be terribly busy with Gyftmas preparations for his beloved brother. They shared a sarcastic chuckle at that, but hers had sounded a shade darker than usual - bitter, almost.

Maybe he’d said something to annoy her (unintentionally, mostly) or she was getting bored with him, or - well, whatever, wasn’t Sans’ problem. She was just a voice behind a door, a convenient distraction. None of it meant anything.

He was sharp enough to know by now that you didn’t survive long by imagining it did.

Days went by, and the pile of presents under Snowdin’s tree grew steadily bigger. How many of them would actually make it to Gyftmas unopened was another story, especially if there was anything that the thriftier locals might be able to sell on to Muffet or one of her goons, but whether it was the prospect of more gold or just the place looking a little less of a dump, people did seem happier, or at least less likely to metaphorically or literally snap your skull off for looking at them funny.

Sans had his own reasons for keeping a socket on the gyfts, his grin tugging a little wider when he spotted the telltale gleam of curiosity in his bro-slash-boss’ sockets as they passed the tree every day – not, of course, that the Great and Terrible Papyrus would ever admit to the slightest interest in such things. Gyftmas was for baby bones, Sans, he’d better not be thinking of wasting their hard-earned gold on such frivolous nonsense.

He said the same every year, and every year Sans ignored him, because he still couldn’t think of many better ways to spend his gold than adding to his brother’s now-substantial collection of action figures - if only to catch the briefest glimpse of surprise and excitement flicker across his features, just like when they were baby bones, before it hastily rearranged into his usual scowl. He’d sigh and roll his sockets and mutter something about how if Sans really wanted to help he’d buy him something actually useful, like that new stove they so desperately needed, while mysteriously never getting around to selling the figures that had stood artfully arranged on his desk for years. Sans would shrug and pretend to believe him, while slurping extra appreciatively and obnoxiously from the extra-large bottle of mustard that appeared under the tree for him every year from some mysterious benefactor.

It wasn’t much, but it was their thing – tradition, even, if you wanted to call it that – and maybe about as close as he ever got to feeling...safe. Comfortable – not, obviously, that Sans or Papyrus or anyone in the Underground with half a brain cell would ever acknowledge it. You sure as shit didn’t survive long down here by laying your soft spots bare for anyone to rip into.

Sans might be a good-for-nothing lazy lump of bones and countless other more colourful terms, by his own admission, but he wasn’t stupid – and yet for some reason, he’d kinda thought that maybe it’d be cool to be able to tell someone about the time he’d had to shove that deluxe Mettaton action figure into his jacket before Papyrus got in (that ultra realistic chainsaw stung like a bitch) or the priceless look of pure terror on that one kid’s face when his mom told him Krampus would be coming for him if he didn’t quit tripping over his tail. Really, he probably should’ve known Door Lady wouldn’t wanna hear about that – or much of anything he had to say, lately. There’d definitely been laughter and a lot more snapping and sighing and the the glare of barely concealed irritation he could practically feel through the door.

If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect she had some kind of issue around the whole Gyftmas thing – bad memories, pretty much everyone was carrying something, or maybe she just hated the idea of other people having fun. But it was an even bigger waste of time than usual, and not the fun kind, to wonder about it – everyone knew you didn’t talk about these things, didn’t trust people outside your closest family (if you were lucky or unlucky, depending on your perspective, enough to have any) with anything the slightest bit personal, and you didn’t get involved with other people’s baggage unless you’d come prepared for a fight. Sans was too tired to start shit; he’d been too tired for most things for a long time, even if she kept wandering into his skull at the most inconvenient times, and he’d catch himself wondering what her deal was. What had happened to the lady with the dirtiest dead baby jokes and even dirtier laugh, the one who made sentry duty with the boss breathing down his clavicle sorta bearable, because – if he was dumb enough to consider being honest with himself or anyone else – he might have been starting to miss her.

The smart thing would’ve been to cut his losses and move on, since he’d obviously outlived his entertainment value and there were plenty other places in the Underground he could nap or jack up the price of hot dogs to a more appreciative (or nonexistent) audience.

Thing was, Sans wasn’t stupid, but he also was never big on doing whatever he was supposed to.

It was, by Toriel’s estimation, the night before Gyftmas. A fact she would not have known, nor would she have cared to know, had it not been for her...friend? It still seemed absurd to think of him as such, a disembodied voice with no face nor name, and yet he was probably the closest equivalent she had had for decades, perhaps centuries, or however long it had been since the term meant anything.

Perhaps visitor was more appropriate; a moderately amusing, yet inevitably temporary distraction from the tedium of her day-to-day life. Toriel was not alone in the Ruins – she had seen the monsters scurry away into the shadows each day when she swept through the halls, her sharp eyes scanning every corner and crevice for anyone foolish enough to have fallen into her domain, but that was exactly how she wanted it, was it not? The last thing in the world she needed were these snivelling, pitiful little Froggits and Whimsuns getting attached to her in any way, getting under her feet and clutching at her paw. Heaven knew, her nurturing days were long behind her.

Fear was power – as the former queen of the Underground surely knew better than anyone – and having vacated her throne, it was the only sort of power she could hope to yield these days. Yet, she could not quite put her paw on when it had all started to feel...empty. As empty as the Ruins, for all their inhabitants, might well have been when she was around, and empty as the many rooms she no longer had any use for, sitting untouched gathering dust for years. Though she did not care to admit it, her visitor had reminded her of that; of just how good it felt to laugh again, even playfully trading insults. His lack of fear, casual disregard for the authority she would never disclose to him – she could not help but welcome the change, and occasionally found herself anticipating her daily surveillance more than she ever imagined she would, her ears pricking up almost without her permission at those first few raps on the old forest door.

He had been reminding her of many things, as of late, and there were many, many things Toriel did not care to remember, this and any other time of year. At first, she had tried to find it endearing, in a simple-minded way, listening to him prattle on about Snowdin’s Gyftmas preparations with a unmistakable note of fondness that belied his professions of indifference. Yet it was much more difficult to conceal her disgust, much less pretend to be as amused as her visitor was when he turned to stories of the “Krampus” Snowdin residents, in particular, seemed to take such delight in threatening their children with. Of course, she thought bitterly, paying the least amount of attention possible as her visitor recounted the story of one little brat who had seen his presents dissolve into fire magic before his ungrateful eyes, the fool would persist in playing ridiculous games instead of attempting to restore the smallest modicum of hope to his people that no doubt still suffered and squabbled and tore each other apart every day, as they had for centuries.

Pathetic, utterly pathetic – well, let them suffer. Toriel had abdicated her part in the whole sorry charade long ago, and she certainly had not returned to the Ruins to discuss her former husband. She could never be so careless as to let the slightest hint of her true identity slip through the door, of course; any sentry worth his salt would immediately run off with such sensitive information, throwing it out for as much gold as they could get to the many Royal Guards out for her head. As much as she sometimes welcomed the idea of a fight – an opportunity to unleash centuries’ worth of anger and frustration by turning all Asgore’s lackeys to dust – preserving the relative peace and safety she had here was her best hope, if she imagined she would feel such a thing again.

Peace she certainly had, as her visitor had not stopped by for the last two days. Toriel had wondered idly whether he was busy, although she had gathered that his interpretation of “busy” was most often not having time for a nap and drinking copious amounts of mustard on one of his many lunch breaks. Regardless, it was no business of hers; they had no formal obligations to one another, although she had briefly toyed with enlisting him as her eyes on the outside, but that idea now held little appeal. In truth, she could not claim to be surprised if he had finally tired of her pointed remarks and taken his business – or lack thereof – elsewhere, just like the rest of them.

Good riddance, she ought to have thought, for it could have been nothing more than habit that carried her back to the halls, vanquishing the cobwebs with her broom and taking small satisfaction in the startled squeaks of the gold-grubbing spiders dangling from the ceiling, until she reached the familiar, well-worn door. Toriel sighed, shaking her head at the now futile, yet automatic stirring of anticipation in her soul as she nonetheless tapped her claws half-heartedly against the old wood. There was no reason for him to come by tonight, she had not even bothered to suggest it last time they’d talked, so she did not know why...

“Who’s there?”

“...Oh.” Toriel faltered for a moment, blinking foolishly at the door; having not actually anticipated a response, she had not come prepared with a suitable joke. “Old – old lady.”

“No shit. Old lady who?”

“I did not know you could yodel.”

The joke was much more innocent than their usual exchanges - and ancient, almost as much as Toriel herself, but when it elicited a familiar gravelly chuckle she felt herself relax a little, her own muzzle curling into a smile. “Lady, there’s a lotta things you don’t know about me.”

Well, that was certainly true for the both of them, and yet she felt a peculiar kind of relief, a warmth settling over her like an old, scratchy but nevertheless comforting blanket as she sank into a sitting position, leaning back against the door with her paws clasped around her knees as she awaited his response.

“‘Kay, I got one. Why didn’t the skeleton go to the Gyftmas party?”

“I cannot imagine why.”

“He had nobody to go with.”

“Oh, that is truly dreadful,” Toriel snorted, her braying laugh echoing through the empty Ruins - so dreadful it was genius, and actually her favourite kind of joke since she was a young girl, like a distant whisper of simpler times. She would not tell her fr - visitor that, though, for he was surely smug enough as it is.

“C’mon, it’s a bone-cold classic. Hey, uh, speaking of...” As their laughter slowly died away, she heard him scuffling about in the snow, followed by what sounded like the crinkling of paper, “don’t get mushy on me or nothing, but I found this lyin’ around and I thought maybe - uh - here, just take it…”

An even louder snort escaped her at that, though more of disbelief than anything. “My goodness. You have not brought me a gyft?”

She was waiting for some punchline or other, but instead a rectangular object, crudely covered by a few sheets of old newspaper, poked its way through the small space under the door before jamming halfway through, causing the old wood to give an almighty creak. Toriel simply scoffed and rolled her eyes at the soft grunt of exertion and his poor attempt to shove it through the space, a little sorry he could not witness the full effect of her disdain.

“A flawlessly executed delivery,” she observed, deadpan. “Here, just let me -"

She grasped the sides of the package and tugged, and after a moment’s struggle it slid free and her fingertips brushed against something else. Slight and bony, yet surprisingly warm, they were unmistakably fingers - his fingers, and that briefest of contact sent an unexpected jolt of electricity up Toriel’s arm and through her magic as she immediately pulled her paw away as though she had burned herself on the stove.

Hurriedly, she turned her attention to the object in hand, her claws making short work of the wrapping (if one could call it that) to reveal its contents.

“Human Hunting with Fluffy Bunny,” she read, arching an eyebrow in bemusement at the sight of a simplistic cartoon rabbit, proudly bearing an axe in its teeth while holding up a distressed-looking head. “...What? Why in the world are you giving me this?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” her visitor retorted, effortlessly bouncing back her own sarcasm in a way she could not help but smirk a little at. “It’s the boss’ fave, y’know. Swiped it fresh from the librarby.”

She was about to correct his abysmal pronunciation, but as she idly drummed her claws over the bunny’s face, Toriel felt a few joints slide into place in her mind, and the revelation hit her: “Wait a moment. It is you. You are the skeleton.”

There was a long, protracted silence, more than enough to confirm her suspicions. “...Heh. Welp, congrats, lady. Finally saw through me, huh?”

His tone remained flippant as ever, but having many centuries’ experience of keeping and guarding secrets, Toriel easily detected the tremor in his voice, that potentially fatal moment of hesitation as he waited to see how she might leverage this new-found information against him. Though, honestly, it ought to have been of no interest to her whatsoever - the species of a lowly sentry mattered not in the slightest. It was her identity that may have been compromised by that...moment of contact, her hand reflexively curling into a fist as she recalled how very tiny and fragile his fingers - phalanges - felt against her own; to her simultaneous embarrassment and immense relief that the man on the other side could not see her, Toriel became aware that the warmth was rising to her cheeks as well. This was ridiculous - had it truly been so long since she had touched another monster, however briefly or inadvertently, that it should affect her this much?

“Hmmm. How very interesting,” she mused, elongating the vowels to regain most of her composure through drawing out the wait, and rather wishing she might be able to see him squirm. “It has been such a long time since I have seen one of your kind. Why, I would not have been surprised to hear you had all died out some decades ago.”

He let out a gruff chuckle, perhaps just a touch more defensive than usual. “Well, maybe there ain’t too many of us left, but lemme assure ya, lady: calcium’s tough stuff.”

“Now that I think about it, it does explain a lot. Of course, only a genuine bonehead could consider this an appropriate gift for a fully grown woman.” Fully grown and considerably larger than him, as she now understood, although it did not explain quite why that thought lingered in her mind as it did.

He laughed more fully at that, a sound she had come to savour; it sounded a little like he was gargling rocks. For all Toriel knew, he may have been. Perhaps it was a common skeleton practice.

“Okay, geez - you don’t want it? Just slide it on back to me and -”

“No,” Toriel protested, a little more forcefully than she’d intended as she protectively clasped Fluffy Bunny to her chest - it was absurd, she knew, but any book she had not read a hundred times over was indeed a rare and precious commodity. Plus...it was a gyft. However unsatisfactory, one did not simply throw such things back in someone’s face...or under the door, as the case may be. “I mean, I...I want to know what happens.”

She did not need to see her visitor to be absolutely certain that his grin was now at its smuggest. Even more curiously, she was discovering, it was infectious. “Gotcha. No spoilers. Lucky we already got, like, five copies back home - trust me, you do not wanna try sending Boss to bed without his bun. Huh, right, guess I should…” Toriel heard the creak of the door as he got up, followed by a barely audible popping noise and a soft, satisfied sigh; stretching out his bones, she supposed, now more curious as to what it might look like than she ever imagined being. “G’night, lady. And, uh...happy -“

“Do not,” Toriel interrupted, before he could say it, but she could summon no sincere vitriol in her voice and he simply chuckled knowingly.

“See ya ‘round.”

Neither of them had any need for such sentiment, and Toriel carried no more affection for the season back to her empty house than she had left with.

But perhaps, she reflected, walking briskly back through the Ruins with her first real gyft in centuries carefully tucked under her arm and the remnants of a smile lingering on her lips - of all the Gyftmases she had still to endure, some of them might be a little less...bonely.

#soriel #underfell #underfell soriel #underfell sans #underfell toriel #undertale fanfiction #my fic

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poppydaystories · 7 years

Text

the secrets we keep close to our hearts

“What happened to us?”

The question hovers in the air, unanswered. Poppy’s afraid to touch it, let alone acknowledge it. She shifts on her butt, anxiously tearing some grass out from the ground. It’d taken them the whole summer to get here. To get to this very moment. It had been all Poppy had wanted, and now that it’s here, she’s afraid it’s another dream.

She lifts her head. Ellie’s staring at her, waiting. She wants an answer. She wants a list of reasons. She wants to be able to pick them all apart to ensure they won’t happen again. Poppy knows this, she knows that Ellie needs this, but still, she keeps her mouth shut.

“Real mature, Day. Real fucking mature.” Ellie pushes herself off the ground. She hovers for a moment, as if Poppy might suddenly beg. She can’t. Ellie nods once, sharp and defiant. “Alright, if that’s how you want it. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, because right now? You just started a war that may never end.”

“Ellie,” Poppy whispers. But it’s too late. Ellie is already halfway across the park by the time Poppy can find her voice. She hugs her knees close to her chest now and rests her forehead on her knees. Nothing will make this okay. Nothing. But it’s for the best. It is. It has to be. Poppy needs to protect Ellie, and this is the only way she knows how. It had to be done.

A sob breaks out of her, startling some of the ducks down at the pond. Poppy doesn’t know what to do, but when she finally manages to stand up, she has a feeling that she can’t go back now. She made her decision, and if Ellie ever found out, well, Poppy’s sure she’d feel worse than she already does.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and Poppy reaches into her pocket to read the text message.

TOM: did you seriously use your savings to pay off ellie’s dad so he’d disappear???

POPPY: you didn’t see the bruises, tom. I did what I had to do. you can’t ever tell her.

TOM: so it’s better to think that he just took off?

POPPY: yes. yes it is. can you imagine what it would be like for her to learn that her father accepted the $5k to leave her without a second thought? 5k, tom. 5 fucking thousand bucks. I was willing to give him 20k. he took my first offer.

TOM: god this is a mess. TOM: you really don’t want her to know?

POPPY: no, I don’t. she deserves a better life, and with her dad out of it, she has a chance at that now.

TOM: I don’t know what to say...

POPPY: there’s nothing to say. she hates me now. you can’t breathe a word. she barely has a self-esteem rn, and I think learning how little she’s worth to her dad will shatter that completely. she means everything to me, tom.

TOM: alright, I won’t say a word. just lmk what you need from me.

POPPY: can you pick me up? I don’t think I can stop crying long enough to drive home

TOM: duck pond?

POPPY: yes.

Knowing that Tom would be on his way, Poppy lets herself collapse back onto the ground. She hugs her legs and watches the ducks swim around. She’d signed Ellie up for a Love Me Self-Esteem Workshop two weeks ago, and she’d made Ellie promise she’d go. Poppy can only cling to the hope that she will. Out of everyone on this earth, Ellie deserves to love herself as much as Poppy does.

x x x

“Dad?” Ellie asks, peering at the old man behind the grocery store counter. She tilts her head. God, she hadn’t seen him in...what? Nine, ten years? Maybe twelve. She thinks he left when she was seventeen. So. Twelve years.

Twelve years and suddenly, he’s right there in front of her. She’d flown into LA for a job interview and had decided to grab some whole foods instead of relying on the hotel restaurant. She always did hate to eat alone in public.

“Eloise?” He sounds so uncertain, so timid. Then he flushes with embarrassment. “I bet you’re not surprised to find your ol’ man working the till at a rundown grocery store. You look...you look great, El. Really grown up.”

She stares at him before lifting her basket up onto the counter. “How did you end up in LA?”

“It’s a long story. Could I tell you over dinner? I’m nearly nine years sober, y’know.”

Ellie blinks. Her dad is sober? What? All those years she begged him to quit drinking because it made him mean and abusive. And now...now he’s sober? She can’t trust him, but the teenage girl inside her aches to believe him. “I--uh, sure. I’m in town for an interview. It’s tomorrow at two o’clock. How about we meet at four?”

“I get done at six?”

“Six it is then. I’m staying at the Marriott down the road. Meet me at the hotel restaurant?” she asks, still unsure of him.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

Ellie knows that his promises tend to become disappointments, but she nods once. She’d become better than this. Her self-worth no longer depended on what her daddy thought of her. In fact, this would be the perfect test to see if that holds true.

“Don’t worry - I’ll get this. Have yourself a good night, okay?”

She takes her bags. “Yeah, okay. Sure. I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ellie doesn’t look back, because she’s afraid that she’ll have made it all up. Her fingers grip the grocery bag tightly and when she gets into her hotel room, she presses her back to the door. How could he have been so close for all these years? Getting sober? Ellie didn’t buy it.

ELLIE: I just ran into my dad.

TOM: wait, what???? where???? I thought you were in LA.

ELLIE: I am. and apparently so is my dad. he said he’s been sober for nine years. we’re getting dinner tomorrow night before I fly out.

TOM: I’ve got the kids until 8pm my time, but do you want me to give you a call afer?

ELLIE: no, no. I’m okay. really. I just wanted to let you know. how’s vernon adapting to being a single foster parent?

TOM: tbh I think it’s making him reconsider our breakup. I hope so, anyway. just lmk if you need to talk, okay?

ELLIE: will do, dude. but by the looks of what you’ve been posting on fb, single parenthood suits you.

TOM: that’s the kids & I trying to get vernon back. they’ve been with us for two years. their our kids, y’know? ethan will be turning 18 in two weeks, and I really wanted to surprise him with adoption papers with vernon on his bday.

ELLIE: oh wow, that’s incredible! I’m so happy for you guys!

And she is. Really. But wow, how can she be jealous of a seventeen year old kid who has been dealt a crap hand in life? It’s just...Ethan had two dads who love him more than anything. They had broken up for some reason - one that no one is willing to share with her - and yet they still love him so much. What must that be like?

Meeting her father for dinner makes her anxious, but she’s not going to show it. She never shows her weaknesses anymore. Keeping a straight face, sitting very still, she skims the menu. Of course, she already knows what she wants. But the heavy silence between them is too much.

“Please, tell me how you’ve been?” her dad ventures, setting his menu down on the table. “How was college? Are you seeing anyone these days? How’s Penelope and the boys? What were their names... um...”

“Penelope,” Ellie repeats softly. She hadn’t thought about Poppy in a long time. Her betrayal had been heartbreaking enough. She tilts her head. “Why do you remember Poppy? She barely came around the house and I...I never talked about her.”

Her dad blinks. It’s the same deer-in-headlights expression that Tom had had five years ago when he’d mentioned Poppy’s name in her presence. They had had one agreement - her, Tom, and Vernon - and that was to never, ever mention Poppy. They could be friends with her, but they were to pretend she doesn’t exist around Ellie. The heartache that Poppy’s name brought to her hadn’t eased with time.

“You mean, she never told you?”

“Told me what?” Ellie’s gripping the menu tightly. When the waiter comes to their table, they sense that there’s tension right now and casually slip away. “Frank, tell me right now.”

Her dad sighs, staring at his water glass. Then he meets her eyes. “Honey, Poppy paid me five thousand dollars for me to go away when you were seventeen. I took it and flew to New Orleans. I burned through a big chunk of it quickly, and then I flew to Vegas, with the hopes of making it back. There was so much booze in Vegas - it was like an alcoholic’s dream come true.”

Ellie doesn’t relax. If possible, she tenses some more. Poppy paid her dad to leave her? How dare she play god with Ellie’s life?

“Then about six months later, I went back to her. She told me you two weren’t talking anymore, but that you were doing so much better. I tried to blackmail her into giving me more money. Instead, she sent me to rehab. I’ll admit I tried to run away a few times, but there she’d be, yelling at me to get back into the building.” Her dad shakes his head. “You really don’t know any of this?”

“No, now keep talking. And talk fast.” Ellie’s vibrating with too many emotions to name.

“Basically, for the first five years after I left, I burned through Penelope’s savings and college tuition. She didn’t care. She was there, every step of the way. Constantly yelling at me, but she never wavered. No matter how mean I’d get. She’d remind me that I had to get better to make up for...well, everything.”

“What happened after the first five years?” Ellie whispers, barely recognizing her own voice. Poppy did this?

“She got a job in New York. She took the opportunity, but called me once a week for the next few years or so. Now we’re down to six month check-ins - I send her half of every pay cheque.” Frank tilts his head. “Eloise, I’m so sorry for all I had done to you. I know that I can’t ever make up for it, but I swear, I’m clean and I’m doing alright. I’m just not where I’d like to be. I wanted to be in a better position before reaching out to you.”

“Where is Poppy now?” Ellie asks.

“Uh, last I heard she’d gone up to Toronto for another job opportunity.”

“Toronto? Poppy is in Canada?”

“I think so. I still have her email address if you want it--”

“I...I don’t know what to say, Frank. I really don’t.”

“That girl loves you a lot, Ellie. She always gets a real soft look when she talks about you. She never really let me know what was going on between you, but I figured that was just ‘cause she didn’t want you to know what she was up to. She told me that you were engaged, so I had assumed that y’all were talking again.”

Engaged? How would Poppy know that...oh god. Tom and Vernon know. They know what Poppy’s been doing for her for twelve years and they never told her.

“I need some time to process this.”

“Wait, please. Just share a drink with me at least?”

Ellie freezes.

“I mean coffee or tea. God, sorry. I didn’t mean...I haven’t had a sip in nine years, I swear. I’m almost at my ten year anniversary.”

“I guess I could stay for one coffee.”

x x x

Poppy gets off the subway, grateful to be part of the rushing crowd who switches to Line 2 at Bloor. Line 2 is usually less packed than Line 1. She adjusts her headphones, listening to a podcast. Sword and Scale is in their fifteenth season, and the murder they’re discussing is particularly gruesome. But no one else needs to know that this is what she listens to for pleasure.

She winces at a very detailed part before taking a seat. She relaxes, despite knowing she’l be getting off soon. Poppy watches some people around her. There are a group of high school kids huddled together, laughing and shouting. There’s an older man sitting across from her, reading the newspaper that Poppy had read on her way to work this morning. She spots a really good looking couple sitting a few seats down the car - one has a large trans flag pin on their bag and the other person has a scarf made out of the bisexual colours.

Poppy smiles. She’s been living in Toronto for a while now, and she loves it. There’s so many interesting people to watch and make up stories about their lives. But most of all? Living in Toronto was really nice because the diversity was incredible. She went from a small white-ass town to a big city with people from everywhere.

None of her Canadian friends have the same religious beliefs - other than the other two atheists in her office - and one one of them was actually born outside of Canada. She was a refugee, and Poppy had told her how much she admired her strength.

She’s no longer one of two black people in a room like she had been growing up. She’s surrounded by culture and diversity.

The podcast ends just as she’s getting off the subway to walk to her house just off the Danforth. Poppy pulls out her phone and frowns when she sees a string of texts from Tom.

TOM: Poppy, I don’t know what happened but I think the secret’s out of the bag. TOM: Ellie knows. she ran into her father accidentally. he told her the whole story. I had no idea. TOM: she called me yelling & didn’t even let me explain TOM: I don’t know what she’s going to do... TOM: but she did not sound happy. TOM: is it bad that I feel a little relieved? I hated lying to her.

TOM: wait, that lest message was for vernon but...well, it’s true.

She stands on the corner of Pape and Danforth for what feels like years. Poppy reads the messages once more. Then again. And again. Swallowing, she calls Tom.

“Poppy!”

“This is so bad. So bad.”

“It’s been like twelve years since you two talked. I feel like it should’ve blown over now.”

“I was her lifeline, Tom. I was her rock. And she lost me when she lost her dad.” Poppy closes her eyes. “She knew I was keeping a secret from her, and she couldn’t handle it. And I couldn’t tell her.”

“I know. I know. But c’mon. Poppy, you could’ve told her by now.”

“It was too hard. I didn’t want to open that can of worms when she was doing so well.” Poppy starts walking towards her home now. “How did this even happen? This is so bizarre.”

Poppy listen s to Tom, and she has to stop on the sidewalk a few times to process what he’s saying. Then she reaches her house, and freezes. After a moment of Tom asking her if she’s still on the phone, Poppy murmurs. “I gotta go, Tommy Boy. Ellie is on my porch stairs.”

“What?!” Tom yells.

“Love you,” Poppy says, on autopilot. She hangs up without waiting to hear his response. “Ellie.”

“Poppy. How could you?”

“I just...”

“I--I need to understand. Please.”

“C’mon in. We’ll talk.” Poppy passes her on the stairs to unlock her front door. “So you flew up?”

“Yeah. I had to reschedule my second interview.”

“What? This could’ve waited. Why would you risk a job opportunity like this?” Poppy asks. She kicks off her shoes and flicks on her kitchen light. Ellie drops her stuff in the front hallway before joining Poppy in the kitchen. “Ellie--Eloise, I just--what was the job for?”

“To become partner at a law firm.”

“So you really did it, huh? The boys told me but it’s nice to know they weren’t lying. That’s awesome - good for you.” Poppy fills the kettle with water and puts it onto the stove. Ellie had always drank tea, and Poppy hopes that hasn’t changed.

Ellie sighs. “Okay, look, let’s cut all the small talk bull shit. Why did you do it?”

Poppy shrugs. “I did what I thought needed to be done.”

“But my d--Frank, Frank said that you kept at it for five years before you had to move and that you still talk?”

“Ellie,” Poppy says, feeling more at ease now. Time had been kind to her in that sense - she felt more comfortable taking charge of a conversation. “You were always the girl who needed her dad to be a hero, but your dad wasn’t. So I thought...”

“You thought you could make him into a hero.”

“I was young when it started. I had no real concept of how much work and energy it is dealing with addiction. By the time I realized what I had committed myself, it was too late. You couldn’t have torn me from your dad’s side if the whole world depended on it. He was there for me when my mom died. He was there for me when my father shut down and then took off without a word. I didn’t mean to depend on him, but I had to.” Poppy is grateful when the kettle whistles. She gets up from the table and busies herself with getting mugs and teabags.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. She was pretty nice,” Ellie says, her voice soft. “And your dad just vanished?”

“Yep. Didn’t take his cell phone or wallet with him. One day, he stopped answering the phone and a week later, I flew down to find the house empty. Well, not empty. Everything was still exactly in it’s place. There was no note. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t even made the bed or clean up the beer bottles. He was just gone.” Poppy sets the mug in front of Ellie before she sits down. “I had to legally declare him dead so I could take over the mortgage and stuff. I rent it out now.”

“Wow. I’m so sorry.”

Poppy shrugs. “Don’t be. I’ve had time to deal with it. So. Now you know. I never wanted to hurt you, Ellie. I just didn’t think at the time you could handle knowing what I had done.”

Ellie meets her eyes, her fingers curling around the mug. “I don’t think I could’ve back then. But I mean, time passed on, why didn’t you reach out to me?”

“I made a deal with Frank. Once he felt like he was good enough to reach out to you, then I had to. But I said I wouldn’t before then. It wouldn’t have seemed fair, y’know? To tell you what I had done, have been doing, and then telling you that you couldn’t talk to Frank because he wasn’t ready.”

“Wow. God, this is so much to take in.”

“I know. If you want to process it alone, that’s fine. I don’t know if you have a hotel room or not, but I have a guest bedroom that you’re more than welcome to stay in.”

“That would be nice...I didn’t really think that far ahead. I just went to the airport and bought a ticket for the next flight. I had to run through the airport. It was very dramatic.” Ellie smiles now. “And then I spent the entire plane ride freaking out and trying to understand everything. And then I realized that I had no idea how to get from the airport to your place so I grabbed a $60 Uber ride.”

“Frank give you my address?”

“Yeah. He said that he sends you Christmas presents and that you always mail him stuff throughout the year.”

“He’s kind of a penpal in that way,” Poppy tells her, with a fond smile crossing her lips. “So. I only know what you’ve been up to through Tom and Vern. Why don’t you catch me up on your life in your own words?”

“Sure, but first, can we talk about what the hell happened with Tom and Vernon?” Ellie asks.

Poppy’s shoulders relax for the first time since reading Tom’s text messages. God, she’d been dying to talk to someone about this. Her new Canadian friends didn’t really understand - they hadn’t met Tom or Vernon before, so all the drama meant nothing to them. Poppy could’ve reached out to Jane, but Jane had kind of faded from the group after college. Vernon is the only person who still talks to her occasionally.

“I can’t believe after all the crap they went through with Vernon’s mom and the whole thing with his siter and getting approved for foster care that they split.” Poppy shakes her head in disbelief. “And over a fucking book, no less.”

“It’s the stupidest fucking thing ever. I tried to tell Vernon to get his head out of his ass, because those kids mean the world to them both, and they shouldn’t be giving those kids any more instability,” Ellie says, waving her hands in the air.

Poppy laughs, because it’s so easy to fall into old habits. “They’re ridiculous. I’m pretty sure Vernon is going to freak when he discovers that book was part of Tom’s proposal plan.”

“He’s going to propose?!”

“Well, he was. Two months ago. But then Vernon stormed out and said he needed time to cool off.” Poppy frowns. “I think he’s worried about becoming his mom.”

“He’s a moron. He’ll never be like his mom.”

“I know. But you try telling that to him. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

“No kidding,” Ellie says, with lightness in her voice. They fall silent for a moment, before Ellie meets Poppy’s eyes. “Thanks, Poppy. For everything you did for me. I don’t think anyone has ever loved me that much before.”

“I know it’s like, twelve years too late, but uh. I just--Ellie, I would do anything for you. You meant everything to me.” Poppy hesitates before she adds, softly, “You still do. How I felt about you never changed. Not once.”

Ellie nods, as though she understands the weight behind Poppy’s words. Then she reaches out and puts her hand on Poppy’s. “I’m sorry that I doubted you.”

“It’s okay. It’s not too late. Why don’t you go settle in the guest room, maybe take a nap? It’s been a long week for you, I’m sure. When you wake up, I’ll have your favourite pancakes and bacon.”

The smile on Ellie’s face is worth everything to Poppy. “Breakfast for dinner is my favourite. Thank you, Poppy. Truly.”

“Go, go, get some rest.”

When Poppy’s alone, she goes over to the calendar hanging on her fridge. She runs her finger over today’s date.

Tomorrow will officially be three months since she’s been diagnosed with stage four cancer. Soon she’ll leave this earth, but at least she had the chance to make things right with Ellie first. She closes her eyes, adjusting her wig, and starts to make breakfast.

See, the thing is that the doctors didn’t realize the cancer was in stage four. They had misdiagnosed it as stage two. They had thought they could fight it. So Poppy had been going in and out of the hospital for chemo and radiation treatments. Then they learned that it was stage four. It had spread to different parts of her body.

Soon, she’ll be too weak to do anything but accept it.

But that’s tomorrow’s worries. Tonight, she’s just going to enjoy her company and thank the universe for giving her this chance to be with the love of her life once more.

x x x

#poppy day #poppy day updates #c poppy #c ellie #c tom #c vernon #bittersweet #poppy day fic

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