#look i gave him SNAKESKIN BOOTS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallingforel · 1 year

Text

arabella pt 1

masterlist

you meet alex turner on a night out with life long friends matty george ross and adam. what happens when the night digresses?

warnings: not too sure i think slight mention of drugs, food if I’ve missed anything off please let me know and I will add them in

"Cmon Y/N" Matty states blaring through my phone speaker, while pulling it away from my ear because of how loudly he's speaking

"No I simply won't" I said back in the same tone and loudness replying to my best friend "look Matty we've been out every night this week I simply can't, because A) i don't have the funds B) I'm turning into a little alcoholic because of you, personally I think I'm being somewhat reasonable. Look if you want to go out with everyone, go ahead, stink I won't stop you but don't drag me along."

At the current moment I hate Matty. Why you may ask? Matty was trying to get me to go out to drink with him. Don't get me wrong I love him, we love each other, but sometimes he is so awfully annoying: right now he's trying to get me to come out, I stand my ground and somehow, somehow he always wins me over I don't understand why? but I don't mind him for it because we always have the most fun

"loooooook if you're so worried about money i'll buy you all your drinks, and so what who cares if you're turning into a little alcoholic because of me we're young we've got our whole lives ahead of us. just come out for one drink please besides George Adam and Ross all want you there. don't you guys"

a whole chorus of yeahs was heard on the other end of the phone he convinced me, I swear that boy had me wrapped around his finger. "Matty I hate you" "awwh come on you love me" "You're right I do. Catch you in 30 come pick me up yeah?" "Of course i always do, love you" "love you too" I replied and quickly hung up the phone.

30 minutes later, I was suited and booted clad in a leather coat, my snakeskin boots. My hands littered with rings and of course my red lipstick. Beeping of a car horn was soon heard outside of my flat, signalling Matty was here. I shut all of the lights off, making sure Arabella's food bowl was filled, I gave her a stroke and left my flat. Heading downstairs I saw Matty in his convertible; George Ross and Adam missing though.

"There's the lead singer of the 1975 but where's the rest of them" I say placing my hand above my eyes pretending to search for them. Matty chuckled and replied with a simple "at the club already, come on bug" I hopped in and we soon sped to the club. Turning on the radio, I soon noticed that sex was playing "Oh my god! Matty your first radio play. I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed giving him a side hug. "Thanks love! this is so cool wait till the boys hear about this" Matty said in reply turning his head for a split second to smile at me "I'm turning it up!" I simply said in return .

Both Singing along pulling up to the club as the songs finishing "THEY'VE ALL GOT BACKCOMBS ANYWAY THEY ALL GOT BOYFRIENDS ANYWAY". Laughing and singing along I was happy in my own world until Matty opened the door for me bringing me back to reality "you comin' bug?" "course I am stink!"I stated back.

We were making our way to the back of the line before the bouncer stopped us. "OI!" his yelling shocked Matty and I before we turned though Matty whispered to me "don't worry I've got this, bug" uh huh sure you have tough guy I didn't dare say it out loud though, it would just start another one of our silly bickering's.

Turning to the bouncer "yeah? what's up?" "ahh sorry didn't mean to scare you there lad, just wanted to ask if you were from that band what are they called? the 1957?" I chuckled to myself before correcting him "you mean the 1975?" "yes that's the one!" "yeah he is." "ahh nice one my daughters a massive fan can I get an autograph and a photo she wouldn't believe me if I didn't have a picture you see?" Matty turned to me looking at me as if to say "is it okay?" I mouthed "course it is" and smiled.

After pleasantries were made, the bouncer let us in skipping the queue of course because the bouncer said "it'd be rude not to" and that his daughter would "kill me if I didn't let you in" and Matty headed straight for the bar while I went out to seek the rest of our friends. Of course, they were in a corner sipping on their drinks where they usually are. Going to join them I shouted at them in a joking manner "You boring fucks. G I would've at least expected you to be out on the dance floor by now, Hann and Ross I understand you, G I'm very disappointed "

They just all nodded their heads at me,knowing I was joking, "ya alright Y/N/N? Where's Matty? where there's one of you the other one is never too far behind" George asked me "I'm dandy G. and Matty is at the bar getting us drinks. when he comes and joins us will you dance with me?" I ask him. Getting a shrug as a reply so I follow it up with "I came out to have fun. Not mope around in a corner all night just drinking" "OI IM HAVING FUN" Ross shouting back at me "Ross you're literally bopping your head shut up" Matty shouted back handing me my rum and coke "here you go love. Get that truth serum in you" you just laughed at him sipping on it through a straw. "come dance with me Matty these lot are being boring." "Of course I'll come dance with you bug! this song seems very fitting though"

with Dizzee rascals dance wiv me was blaring through the speakers of the club. matty and I ran down the stairs heading to the dance floor dancing with each other. "THATS WHY IM ASKING B! SO LETS PARTY B COME AND DANCE WIV ME" we shouted at each other.

After some time both our drinks were finished so I headed to the bar to get some more Matty giving me his card to get some more. "hiya love what can I get you?" the bartender shouted at me over the music "one rum and coke and one red wine bottle please" I replied "of course i'll get them sorted and i'll come back in two secs" "thank you" i replied as he was walking off.

While waiting for the bartender to come back to my drink I look around for Matty and the others: Matty was dancing with George (rude if you ask me!) Ross was still sitting at our table booping along to the songs, and Adam was in the corner necking off with some girl, good for him he deserves some action. He's been upset a lot ever since his girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago, turns out all he needed was a night out with us.

The bartender soon came back with our drinks, tapping Matty's card i thanked the bartender again and walked off with our drinks, joining Ross at the table. All of a sudden there was a silence followed soon by excited cheers were heard throughout the club. "What's going on?" I asked Ross nodding my head to where the commotion was happening on the dance floor. "Some indie band performing tonight. think they're quite big won't lie. not too sure though" Ross said in reply to my question.

All of a sudden, the opening chords of you look good on the dance floor were heard and I immediately screamed. "OMG! ROSS ITS THE ARCTIC MONKEYS WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!!" "I didn't realise you liked em y/n/n" replying to my shouting in a calm manner "like em? I LOVE THEM ROSS!" soon Matty came by my side dragging me onto the dance floor.

We danced for the rest of their set. This is how I always wanted it to be, Matty and I with the rest of our mates dancing to absolute tunes. "this is the whole reason I dragged you out bug. Wanted it to be a surprise for you." Matty said to me grinning ear to ear, drunk yes but happy nonetheless. "you little fucker! stink " I simply said drunkly grinning back at him.

Granted the Arctic monkeys only played a few songs keeping their set small. It was a great set, covering the classics. I stayed out on the dance floor Matty went back to the table claiming he needed a break "feel the alcohol coming back up bug, need a breather" "okay i'll stay here". After a couple of songs, I looked around for Matty and the crew and couldn't find them anywhere, only Hann still necking off with that girl, didn't fancy staying with them on my own. Besides, it's not like Hann would show interest in me and I didn't want to interrupt either "Damnit Healy" I said grabbing my bag off the table and walking out the club going to find them probably shacked at the smoking shelter either smoking weed or cigarettes .

Once I got out of the club the cold air hit my face, sobering me up quite a bit, I walked to the smoke shelter, pulling my cigarettes and lighter out of my bag lighting one. waiting around searching for matty or anyone at this point, popping my head out and occasionally moving to keep me warm, Oh how I hated being on my own.

giving up and walking away because they weren't here anymore lighting another to keep me warm, suddenly I felt someone tap my shoulder with an "scuse me love" turning around with a "yeah can I help you?" not catching on that my favourite artist, had just tapped my shoulder "look it's just I saw you lighting your cigarette normally I wouldn't ask this but could I borrow ya lighter my mate took mine and I don't know where he or my lighter for that matter, is?" "Of course you can, here you go. My mates ditched me too I don't know where they are"

Looking up at me he noticed who i was "holy shit you're like the really hot model who stars in that 75 video" laughing to myself "yes that would be me, although i do have a name other than 'really hot model' it's Y/n. and the 75 are the friends who ditched me" "nice to meet ya y/n, the names Alex Turner" "yes I know who you are alex, I'm a big fan!" chuckling to himself I think more than to me. "that hilarious, such big fans of each other" laughing along too I said "yeah i guess so"

keeping each other company for a while talking about how demanding each of our jobs are George ran over to me shouting "There you are, y/n/n, been looking all over for you". "looking for me? I've been looking for you lot I came back from the dance floor and you were gone all of you. well apart from Hann, he was still there wasn't interested though. think he was more interested in that girls lips, was just about to give up and go home before you showed up" "haha yeah. well we went to go smoke a zoot but didn't think you'd want to come." george caught alex gawping at him, as if he had just seen the queen of Sheba.

Leaning into me george said in a whisper "is he alright?" "yeah he's fine, just a little starstruck that your in front of him, big 75 fan ya see, like I am of him, I don't show it though" nodding george understanding how big fan I was of the arctic monkeys he held a hand out and introduced himself "Hey, George nice to meet you" Alex tried to keep his cool "nice to meet you too, big 75 fan. isn't there more of you?" "yeah Matty and Ross are coming they're just having a heart to heart you see. came to find our best friend and adopted 5th member of our band y/n here. and our guitarist Adam is inside necking on with a bird, shown disinterest in all of us tonight"

Not too soon after, Matty and Ross came up and joined George Alex and I. Matty came up next to me and put a hand round my neck and kissed my temple, "there you are been looking all over for you bug" "went looking for you,dick" shoving him adding "you disappeared stink" with a pout. "sorry y/n/n drug duty calls" standing to attention like a solider in a jokey matter,

coming back to whisper in my ear while Alex and george were still talking "Isn't that Alex? as in arctic monkeys Alex?" "yeah it is. nice innit apparently he's a big 75 fan and big fan of me too" whispering back. Matty just smiled and went up to introduce himself to Alex but not before nicking on of my fags. taking his iconic 75 lighter and lighting it.

After pleasantries we're made. we all decided to take a walk, Alex joining us, leaving Hann behind deciding that he wouldn't want to come anyway being too distracted in some girl's lips, wandering around the streets aimlessly with no end goal that until our drunk cravings were shouting at us to get greasy kebabs. so that's what we did, we got them from the nearest kebab shop and took them to a local park and sat in it eating our kebabs. Alex got to know us, and we got to know him.

"And it was her foot!" Matty said finishing his story, we all laughed "still can't believe that happened, what drunken nights can do to us hey stink?" I chimed in running over to the bin throwing my rubbish away. the others soon finished theirs and we headed out together, deciding it was late and we should all probably head home.

Stupidly though I ended up inviting everyone back. Matty stating that it would've happened anyway "you just want to see Ara" "that's true I love her more than her own mother" "not true you just give into her because you think she's too cute" "okay yeah. but we love her equally"

Alex being confused chiming in with a "who's Ara" ross sighed with george adding in a "you just got yourself into a whole mess pal " giving Alex a pat on the shoulder knowing that Matty and I would get into a heated bickering about who's cat it was. Alex obviously knowing us for a night so didn't really know the whole depths of it. "so it's my cat, her names arabella, matty of course decided to adopt a cat as well not to mention it looked the exact same as ara, we introduced the cats one day because we thought it would be cute because well it would be nice to have our cats as best friends, turns out it was a stupid idea as one of the cats jumped out the window and it was never seen again. but the fight happened so fast we weren't sure which one was which because we hadn't gotten them collars yet. so Matty thinks Ara's his cat, but she's not" "she is she answers to Caroline" Matty added in "she answers to about anything mate" George chimed in before putting a hand round his neck taking him off so he could cool off before the bickering got any further to save Alex, he wasn't ready for the constant bickering yet.

With George Ross and Matty walking ahead and Alex and I walking behind we got to know each other better until the question i've been dreading all evening came up "so...are you and Matty like a thing?" "no of course not just best friends. although you wouldn't think, we argue like a married couple and are very cuddly but that's because we've been through a lot together, I think of Matty like a brother you know, besides Matty would be too high maintenance for me." "Good because I was hoping you and I could become something sometimes"

— end of pt 1

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #matty healy #george daniel #mattyhealyxbsf!reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #ross mcdonald #adam hann #alex turner meet cute #fanfiction #fanfic #Spotify

88 notes · View notes

openshanklygates · 17 days

Text

What Is Righteous

Whumpril 2024 April 1, 2024 LIMP Tyler Bateman/Savannah O'Ryan (Original Character) Main Verse

These new friends her Vincent found himself surrounded with were not exactly the kind of men that made Savannah O'Ryan comfortable. Maybe it was because she was still stuck on how exactly Vincent had joined up with said new friends. The betrayal of the man she loved against her brother, TK O'Ryan, and the man she considered a brother, Matt Taven, had been something that broke her at the core. Meeting these new friends had not been any better. But Savannah was a bleeding heart, so seeing anyone who needed a home tugged at her heartstrings.

Tyler Bateman reminded Savannah of a Victorian gentleman in a way. It was in the way he carried himself, using a cane to work as a fashion statement instead of a support. The top hat he wore added to the mystique, though she knew it was all in the mustache. The way it twisted at both ends, as if curled perfectly, stood out to the young manager. It made Tyler unique, even alongside the larger of Vincent's new friends, a simple man by the name of Dutch, and even Vincent himself. It was that uniqueness that almost always drew her attention when he was around. That wasn't the case tonight.

Vincent, acting as the benevolent leader of his new team The Righteous, had chosen Bateman as the representative for the team in the annual Survival of the Fittest tournament. If Bateman could qualify, could make his presence felt, it would undoubtedly lead to glory for the team. The problem was that Bateman had lost to Bandido, had not moved on to the qualifier. The honor was lost and Vincent was not pleased. Before he had led Dutch and Savannah to the ring, she had tried to plead with him. "Vincent, darlin', please. He's your friend, ain't he? You ain't gotta be mad at him..."

Vincent had simply given her the smile that did not reach his eyes, carding a hand through her wavy blonde hair, "I gotta do what has to be done, Vannah. Ya dig what I'm sayin'?"

Now here the three stood, circled around Bateman who sat looking dejected in the center of the ring.

"You know I would never lie to you like the rest of society, man," Vincent began, sitting down cross-legged on the mat next to Bateman, "I know you were born with the devil in ya. I mean, that's why I gave you the mission, man. And you've done amazing! You've done such a good job! But on my journey alongside the orange sunshine, I had a moment of clarity, and I've realized what's been important to me now. And that's the Ring of Honor World Championship."

He had sounded happy for a moment. Savannah stood in the corner, watching the tears in Bateman's eyes. He really had done well, despite his loss. Dutch stood behind Bateman, never faltering, never wavering. Savannah often wondered if the former clown knew more than he let on in situations like these. Vincent's hand reached out to touch the openly sobbing Bateman's shoulder and Savannah expected a moment of praise. Her blood ran cold the moment Vincent spoke again.

"But ya failed me..."

Savannah moved forward and whispered to her beau, "He's upset enough. You-"

Vincent cut her off with a look. The message was clear. This message needed to be passed on, it served a purpose, and she was not to interrupt again. "Death," Vincent continued as he glanced back at Bateman, "is the greatest form of love."

Tyler raised his arms, outstretched to either side, and closed his eyes. Savannah was confused until Vincent glanced from her to the man offering himself as a martyr. Vincent expected her to attack, to be the first nail to the cross. Wordlessly, her blue eyes welled up with pleading tears. She wanted to beg, to ask why they had to sacrifice a friend, but the look in Vincent's eyes was a demand. They had to do this, for the cause.

She had to do this for him.

Savannah booted Tyler in the face, the sole of the black snakeskin boots she always wore landing hard against his cheek. She knelt over the top of him, one hand on his neck and the other throwing weak punches. She wasn't a fighter. She shouldn't be doing this. "I'm sorry," she mouthed at the limp body beneath her, at the friend who offered no fight. Vincent pulled her away after a moment, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Dutch finally moved, pulling Bateman's limp body into a standing position and wrenching his head back to expose Bateman's throat.

"This is what failure brings," Vincent whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss to her hair as Dutch lifted the man for a spinning slam to the hard canvas of the mat, "This is what failing you brings."

She was crying openly now, one of her hands on her red painted lips, "I don't...I don't understand. Why...he's our friend..."

"He's a sacrifice for my goddess," Vincent chuckled, "he will come back better. Stronger."

Vincent let go of her, crossing to exit the ring with Dutch. Savannah knelt at Tyler's side, holding his limp hand in her own. This wasn't right. None of this was right. She slid the flower crown she wore from her head, laying it against Tyler's chest before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. It may not have been right, but that act of kindness was the least she could do.

#kay's april challange #whumpril #whumpril 2024 #character: tyler bateman #character: original character #character: savannah o'ryan

2 notes · View notes

barbiewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Fine.

-- This was inspired by the song ‘Fine’ from the musical Ordinary Days. Also please send me requests, as you can see I am not above begging :P --

The trip to New York was supposed to be nice. Jake had finally been able to book some time off to spend with her after eleven months of back-to-back missions. He had been looking forward to spending time with her, sightseeing and maybe even seeing her family. They had boarded okay, the landing had been fine and the hotel was great. They had spent two very fun days and then it had just taken a sharp nosedive.

It had all started with the wine.

That stupid bottle of wine her cousin had asked to bring to her diner (oh no, not dinner! It was a diner, with a french accent. She was a sous-chef at a prestigious restaurant, they didn’t serve dinner, they served diner). They had roamed the isles for hours trying to find a stupid bottle of wine. One that would impress but wouldn’t break the bank. There was choice, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they were bickering too much to actually make a choice.

The problem was that Jake had grabbed his favourite bottle of cabernet.

“Darling” She said “They’re serving monkfish, the wine can’t be red. How about the Riesling instead?”

“Honey, you know I don't like the Riesling. When have you ever seen me drink Riesling?” He had spoken through gritted teeth

“Never, but can you listen this once? Red wine and fish, you’ll look like a dunce”

“Fine! I'll bring the red, you bring the white. That way I'll still get drunk and you'll still be right”

“Fine” She spat back

And then there was the cab.

It had been stuck in traffic in the middle of Broadway for the past ten minutes. They were twelve blocks away and they were already late

“There would be no delay, if we turned that way”

“Darling, the cab was pointed squarely down Broadway. I know you’re concerned but your cousin is on Broadway, so why have we turned?”

“Darling, I know my cousin's on Broadway, but there was lots of traffic on Broadway!”

“Sure, but in my defence, we’re farther away, which doesn’t make sense”

“Fine, driver, please stop here if you would. I think walking will do us both some good”

The cabbed stopped and Jake paid the fare.

They walked down in complete silence, feeling the distance the eleven months of barely seeing each other had put between them like a sharp stab to the heart. It felt to them both like they were walking next to a stranger. They looked at each other and instinctively gave the other the little awkward smile one gave a fellow commuter when one had to squeeze past them in a packed train compartment.

Whether it was the wind or the ambiance, a chill went through them and they both shivered. They hurried

And then there was the rain.

It fell hard and it fell fast, soaking through her hair, her shoes, her bag and her dress.

Jake liked rain. It meant he couldn’t fly and he could go home. It meant he could go home to you. Everything shimmered under the raindrops.

He looked at her getting steadily angrier as they hadn’t brought the umbrella. The rain clung to her hair like morning dew.

Suddenly he thought of the first time he met her. Christmas almost five years ago. Jake had been dragged Christmas carolling with his sister and she was there in a big puffy red coat, a blue scarf, hat and gloves, jeans and red polka dot rain boots. Adorable. He had admired her for a few seconds before fate decided he needed to fall in love. Kids playing nearby had thrown a bucket directly at her hair. She took off her hat and shook her hair free of snowflakes. How he wished they could go back to that day.

It occurred to him just then that he wanted her to know how much he loved her. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending another day without her.

But how could she know? How could he tell her when they couldn’t stop arguing.

And then there was the shoe.

Her stupid new shoes. Faux snakeskin heels that made her legs look amazing.

“Shit! OW! My shoe” She had twisted her ankle on the pavement, breaking the heel at the same time.

“Dammit! This is really fantastic” She said; ‘No, really absurd’ she thought. She looked at him with a fury she was desperately trying to quell. Eleven months apart and now they couldn’t stop arguing. They never argued.

“And what, you just stand there. And don't say a word?” She shouted at him, in the middle of Broadway “Fine. I'm gonna go, we're late for my cousin” She limped away, pain shooting through her ankle with every step and tears wiping her makeup over her entire face. “You can stay put here out in the rain, but don't leave it up to me to explain. Give me the wine” And when he didn’t “Don't take all day”

“Fine then! Bring it yourself, your cabernet, Jesus!” She turned again.

Jake didn’t move, sudden despair at the thought that this might be the end. Their end. Five years together broken apart by a career, a trip to New York, a bottle of wine, the weather and a shoe.

“Shut up, Y/n, and marry me!”

“ Fine!” She shouted and continued walking. She stopped in her tracks “What?!”

“Oh right, shit” He knelt down but before he could she limped towards him

“No! You’ll get your knee dirty”

He stared at her with mouth agape.

“I propose and this is what you are worried about?!” He shouted

“You propose to me during an argument, in the rain while we are late to my cousin’s. Do it properly and I might reply!” She shouted back

“Fine!”

They walked in silence again until they reached her cousin’s front door. Jake rung the doorbell

“Will you say yes?”

“Yes”

The door flung open. Y/n’s cousin stood there in all her glory, arms outstretched that she hugged them both with immediately.

“Hi, how are you two?” She asked

“Fine!”

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #original fic #jake seresin #hangman top gun

76 notes · View notes

creativia10 · 11 months

Text

Playing Pretend the Human Way

Prompt: The Collector meets a younger Luz

Warnings: could be seen as one misgendering, (it's unintentional though)

Wordcount: 3630

Notes: Requested by Videogamegal on AO3

Yay, another fic with the collector. I loved young Luz's look in Camila's memory of Luz showing other kids a snakeskin she found. Let me know if anyone wants me to continue this.

The Collector said he would go back to the stars to do some thinking, but they didn’t really know what they were doing. It had been a while since the Collector had been among the stars after all. He just hoped he’d be able to avoid their siblings for a bit though. Not that they were sure how, but they’d try. He was still mad at them.

So there he was, just flying through space. Occasionally he’d play with something harmless that was drifting in space. Although his time among the mortals gave him pause on whether this was the case. Not being sure he just sighed and kept going.

It was honestly kind of boring, and still lonely. He knew eventually he’d come across something else worthwhile. Space was big after all. But they couldn’t help but keep thinking of the ones he left behind.

Luz and some of the others seemed nice and all. But the Collector was well aware of how much he had messed up for them. He didn’t want to chance making anything worse by sticking around.

He didn’t really feel as powerful as he was when they had to think about the limitations of smaller beings. He had never minded his power before. Until he was made aware of how detrimental that could be left unchecked. Particularly around smaller beings like Luz.

In a way, it was nice the others trusted the Collector to know what would be best for him, but he didn’t know what he was doing.

He still just wanted to play. And get to see more of friends who were kids like him, like Luz.

Just as he thought that, a black hole appeared in front of them. Now, the Collector probably could have resisted its pull. But the sudden appearance threw him off guard.

They probably spent too long wondering how it popped up so quickly. It pulled him in. He screamed and threw his arms up as they were pulled through. Again, for some reason, the Collector tended to forget what they were capable of.

Once he had fallen through the black hole, the Collector saw the opening dropped him from the sky. It took a few more seconds of falling for the Collector to remember themselves. He took a breath and flipped forward once before creating a star for themself to float on. Just in time too it would seem, because the star was hovering a few centimeters from the ground.

They probably would have been fine, but still. It probably wouldn’t have been fun. He heard a gasp nearby and turned towards it.

A little girl was staring at them in awe. She had light brown skin, and dark hair in braids facing different directions. There were also barrettes in her hair. She was wearing a small jeans overalls dress over a pink shirt with short sleeves and yellow boots. One of her hands was holding a snakeskin.

“Oh my gosh!” She exclaimed. For some reason, she was the only kid on the playground. She ran over to him.

“You fell out of the sky! And then you caught yourself with a floating star, that is so cool! Are you from another world? That is so cool if you are! How did you get here? You must have powers or something! I’ve always wanted to have powers, what’s it like?”

The collector blinked at her. This girl had a lot of energy. He wasn’t used to getting this much enthusiasm.

“Uh, yes? I mean…” He looked around.

“I don’t really know where I am right now, so I’m not sure.”

Luz tilted her head.

“That sounds scary. Are you ok? How old are you? You look like you’re a kid like me. Don’t worry, I’m sure we can get someone to help you. Do you have parents we can try and contact? I’m sure my momma would help. I don’t know if she’s helped aliens before though, but she can do anything.”

“Um…”

The Collector hugged his knees to their chest. They didn’t really know what they wanted to do. But this girl seemed nice.

“I think I’m going to be okay,” He said hesitantly. They didn’t really want to go back to wandering in the stars yet. Not when he had found someone new to maybe play with on his own, even if he didn’t know how he got here.

“Maybe we could play a little bit first? I’ve been bored.”

They would try to follow her lead with it at first though. That’s one thing the collector wanted to work on, learning how his friends liked to play. He wanted to play with friends after all, without anyone getting hurt.

The girl’s eyes widened and she gasped.

“YES! I would love to play with you!”

She was jumping up and down now, smiling big.

The Collector smiled at her enthusiasm.

“It’s so great to have a friend to play with! My name’s Luz Noceda! What’s your name?” She asked.

The Collector gasped.

“Luz?”

She tilted her head.

“Yeah?”

He had thought there had been something familiar about this girl. Even if she was clearly much younger than the Luz they knew.

Did he somehow go back in time? Unless this was an alternate universe. Honestly, there were many possible explanations for this. Although, now he was curious what Luz had been like as a kid like him. He already knew he liked the original as a friend after all.

“Uh, I go by The Collector,” He said.

She scrunched her face in thought.

“The Collector? That sounds like a character name. What do you collect?”

“Uh, well, I would like to collect friends.”

She giggled at that. “Oh, that’s cute.”

He laughed back. “Heh yeah. Anyway, what do you wanna play?”

She tapped her face in thought.

“Hm, well we could play pretend. That’s one of my favorites.”

He smiled.

“That’s one of mine too.”

Luz cheered and clapped her hands.

“Great! Oo, we could be like superhero witches. I will have snake powers and you can collect I don’t know something that gives you powers, it’s up to you. And we can save weird kids from bullies and journey to defeat the evil Queen bee who targets princesses that need saving.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” The Collector said.

They then continued, “Maybe I collect palisman, and they are my friends who fight with us!”

“What are palisman?” Luz asked.

“Oh, they’re like magical creatures that are animals made from wood. They can do all kinds of stuff.”

“Oh ok. That sounds cool.”

Luz turned around and took on a fighting pose, looking at something that wasn’t there.

“Fear not, fellow kids! The great Luzura and The Collector are here to save you from these bullies!”

The Collector smiled and took on his own pose. He chanced looking to the side to see there were other kids there. They just weren’t on the playground. The other kids were hiding with their parents, seeming like they wanted to leave.

The collector frowned.

“Why don’t we ask those kids to play with us?” He asked.

Luz wilted slightly.

“They’re not gonna want to play with us. They ran away from me earlier.”

The collector frowned and glared at those kids before turning back to Luz.

“Well, we don’t need them. I can make this game way more fun without stinky kids that run away from you.”

The Collector lifted their hands forward. Sparkling stardust circled his hands. Luz looked at it in awe.

“Do you want me to take us to a cool place to play or give us real opponents to fight?” He asked, because they wanted to consider what Luz would want this time.

Luz tilted her head again.

“Real opponents? I don’t know how to actually fight though.”

“I mean, they could be puppets,” The Collector added.

“Puppets? Who would control them if you’re fighting beside me?” Luz asked.

“I could do both,” The Collector said.

“Oh really? That’s cool. But I don’t want to make you do more for our game.”

“It’s okay,” The collector said, “I don’t mind.”

Luz shook her head. “No, I think it should be fair. Because you’re my friend.”

The collector gaped at her.

“Oh, ok. What if I just put dummies there, and we both pretend they’re doing stuff.”

“Oh ok,” Luz said. “We could try that.”

The Collector snapped his fingers and made two them-sized puppets appear in front of them. The puppets looked like some mean kids the Collector had seen before. It wasn’t actually those kids as puppets this time. They did stand there on their own though.

“Oo, that is so cool that you can do that!” Luz exclaimed.

The Collector smiled at her.

“Thanks! Now we definitely have the better game without those lame kids who ran from you!”

The collector wasn’t actually sure about that, but he hoped it made Luz happy anyways.

Luz smiled at him.

“Yeah ok.”

Luz started to move her arms and legs in moves of imaginary blasts toward the puppet girl in front of her. She made sound effects with her mouth. He noticed she didn’t actually touch her puppet opponent with her swings.

The Collector watched her for a moment, so he could get an idea of what level to follow in this pretend game. He didn’t want to go overboard again after all.

He summoned painted wooden figures of palisman he had seen before. They rested on his shoulders and sat around him on the ground. One on his shoulder was of a small snake.

They heard some whispering from the people by the benches, but he didn’t really care. They were too busy playing with his friend.

He gathered two palisman in his hands, a red cardinal one and a dog. He moved his hands forward, one at a time, and pretended to shoot something with them. It was weird holding back like this. Luz didn’t seem to have a problem doing so herself. And well, playing along side her was more fun than actually doing anything to the puppets anyways.

“Snake blast!” Luz called out as she pushed the puppet over with two hands out.

Luz turned around and gave them an adorable gap-toothed smile. The Collector smiled back and held out both arms for his own final blast.

“Uh, Palisman blast!”

However, he forgot to hold back this time. As he pushed his arms forward twin star blasts shot their puppet way into the distance.

The two kids just stared at where the puppet had been blasted to.

The Collector laughed a little sheepishly and scratched the back of their head.

“Uhh…oops? Heh, don’t worry. I can uh make a new one if we need to.”

Before Luz could say anything to that, a familiar woman started to walk over to them. The collector thought he remembered her as one of their puppets. Also, someone Luz hugged when everyone was reuniting after Belos was defeated. Luz’s mother maybe? That would make sense given where they were.

“Uh, excuse me, but who are you?” The mother asked.

The Collector shrank back and started to hide behind Luz.

“Mama, it’s okay!” Luz exclaimed.

“He’s my friend and he’s really nice.”

The Collector almost corrected Luz on his use of he and they. But refrained from now as he waited to see how her mother would respond to them.

Her mama looked to Luz and then back to The Collector, softening a bit. She still seemed unsure about something though.

“I uh I don’t mean any harm, really,” The Collector said, shuffling in place a bit.

“I just wanted to play. I’m sorry for scaring you. But I promise I don’t want to hurt Luz.”

Her mama sighed and knelt down to meet their level.

“What’s your name?”

The Collector looked down. They figured an adult would react differently to his name.

“I’ve always gone by The Collector.”

Her mama blinked at that.

“Okay…Collector. How old are you? Are you actually a kid?”

Despite the questions, she didn’t look as skeptical as he expected.

“Yeah I am, and uh…” They would have to think about it.

“I’m not sure if my kind refers to age in the same way as you all do.”

Her mama pursed her lips at that.

“Okay. Well, do you have anyone to look after you?”

The Collector tilted their head in thought.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I came from up there,” The Collector pointed to the sky. Both Luz and her Mama looked up where he pointed.

“I don’t know if I have parents the way you all do though. It’s hard to explain. There are my siblings the archivists. But I’ve been trying to avoid them since they dared me to go down on the planet to go play with the Titans. Since that led to me being captured for hundreds of years. Over something that was their fault. So I’m still mad at them. I did make some friends on the planet that are adults. But I kind of told everybody I would do some growing up back in the stars after a mess I caused with them. It’s more boring in space than I remembered though.”

Both Luz and her Mama blinked at that.

“…okay. So what I’m hearing is that you’re here by yourself?” Luz’s Mama asked.

The collector sighed. “Yeah…”

“Well,” Her Mama started. She looked to the side to see the other people there talking amongst themselves. Some were getting out their cell phones.

“First, do you know how to take care of that thing you blasted away from here?” She asked.

The Collector shrugged.

“Maybe, I’m not sure where it went though,” They said.

Her Mama sighed and muttered something in Spanish under her breath.

“Alright, we can worry about that later. For now, unless you know of somewhere you can go, I think we should get out of here,” She said.

“What? Why?” The Collector tilted their head.

“Well…” She hesitated as she looked over the Collector and Luz.

“Many people here saw you doing things most people think aren’t possible,” She said.

“Oh?” The Collector asked and looked around. He hadn’t really thought about that. It didn’t usually matter.

“Ohh,” Luz said, “You think they’ll be mean to him about it?” She asked.

“…yes,” Her Mama said.

“So how about we go somewhere else for now? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course,” She said, looking to the Collector.

The Collector shrugged.

“Okay. I don’t think they can really do anything to me, but if you’re concerned, I’d rather go where I can keep playing,” They said.

“Oh, it’ll be fun to actually have a play date at my house,” Luz said.

Luz’s Mama walked back over to the bench to grab a bag she had left next to it. By then, there were no other mothers on that bench anymore.

“Oo,” The Collector said, “Do you want me to take you all back home faster?”

Never mind he didn’t actually know where they lived.

Luz’s Mama hesitated.

“Uh, can you do that?”

The Collector shrugged.

“Sure, you’ll just have to let me look into your mind so I can teleport us to where you’re thinking of.”

“…or I can just take us back there the way I brought Luz and I.”

The Collector shrugged.

“Okay.”

So this was the house where Luz lived in the human realm? It was much smaller than the castle the Collector created for themselves in the Boiling Isles. Luz and her Mama seemed to have no problem with it though.

Luz had been jumping and chattering the whole way to the house.

“Oo, I’ll go set up a play area for us!” Luz exclaimed before she darted off. The Collector thought he saw her grabbing some pillows and blankets. The Collector smiled and went to go join her when Luz’s mama put a hand on their shoulder. The Collector jumped. She removed her hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment,” She said.

“Uh, okay,” The Collector said. They were still nervous around nonfriends now. After everything that had happened in the Boiling Isles.

“About what happened at the playground. I know you said you didn’t mean to, but I wanted to know if you knew of a way to control your abilities any better. My house is a bit more enclosed that the park, and I would like to avoid any potential damage.”

“Oh, uh, I think so?” The Collector shifted. “To be honest, restraining my abilities is a bit of a new thing to me. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay mijo. I wish I could help you. Wasn’t there anyone who taught you how to use your powers?” She asked.

“Well yeah. My siblings did. But they didn’t really care about restraint either. Honestly the first times I really had to control myself more to avoid harm would have been when I was playing with my friend King and-“

They paused as he had to think about the situation they were in.

“Um, I’m not sure I can say.”

Luz’s Mama looked concerned about that.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, well…” He sighed. They were going to have to deal with this eventually. Even if all he had wanted to do was play with another kid, and know what one of his friends was like closer to his age. Well physically, he didn’t really know how that worked.

“Well, uh, there’s a possibility I’m from your future, as I know an older version of your daughter. Either that or this is an alternate universe. I wouldn’t be able to know for sure without comparing the similarities to the life of the Luz I know. But I wouldn’t know all the details anyways.”

Luz’s Mama’s eyes widened at that. She muttered something in Spanish again.

“And these are things you consider a possibility for you?” She asked.

The Collector shrugged.

“I haven’t experienced them myself, but yeah. Given what I know about Luz, and how she seemed familiar to me. Plus, I know that there are a lot of possibilities out there in space, even if I haven’t done everything myself. I don’t know how I got here. Maybe a black hole. I was just thinking about Luz before it appeared and dragged me here. I can’t remember the last time I created something by accident like that though. Let alone, how to replicate it,

The Collector continued, “I don’t really wanna go back yet anyways. I’m having fun playing with a kid who actually wants to play with me and isn’t lying. Who I also didn’t have to force to play with me. And yeah, I know I shouldn’t force people to play with me. My friends taught me that. I have tried to be sure I don’t do anything to harm Luz,” The Collector rambled.

“Okay, so that is a lot to unpack there. I guess you can’t help if you don’t know how to get back. You can stay here for now,” She said.

“Thanks, Luz’s Mama! I appreciate it,” The Collector said.

She laughed at that.

“You’re welcome. You can call me Camila. I do think though, if you can help it, you should try and go back,” She said.

The Collector pouted, “Why?”

“Well, because this isn’t where you’re from, kiddo,”

Camila said, “You said you were thinking about my daughter before you came here. Maybe you need to go back and talk with that one.”

The Collector fidgeted with his sleeve.

“I haven’t been gone that long though. What if she and the others think I didn’t care enough about my wrongdoings to return so soon?” They asked.

“I feel like I’m missing some context here. Was this a punishment?” Camila asked.

“Not technically. I wanted to do what was best for the world my friends live in. I made a mess of it, and I want to be better,” The Collector said.

“You said you were alone right? And that you’re a child?” Camila asked.

The Collector nodded.

“From my understanding as a parent, most children need guidance. From important adults in their lives. Like families and teachers. If you’re not ready to be with your siblings maybe you should talk to your friends about how you feel. I’m not sure if I’d trust the archivists anyways. Giving the benefit of the doubt is easier when I understand the situation better. Who you are comfortable with is important too though. Especially when it concerns yourself as a person or uh being.”

The Collector hmmed. Staying on that planet sounded nice actually. Even if he did have to learn more about safe restrictions. It would be worth it though. Friendship had always been most important to them.

“Maybe you’re right.”

The Collector stepped up to her. “Can I give you a hug?” They asked.

Camila smiled at him.

“Of course.”

She bent down and opened his arms for him to lean in and hug her. It was nice.

Luz came back over to them, holding many stuffed animals.

“Okay! I think it’s ready! Let me know what you think Collector,” She cheered.

The Collector pulled back and shot Camila another smile, before giving one to Luz.

“Okay!” They ran over and followed Luz to see what she had set up for the two of them.

Maybe it was okay to enjoy this for now. Then he could see how he could go back and return to the Boiling Isles.

#the owl house #toh fanfic #luz noceda #toh the collector #toh spoilers #toh camila #Creativia toh fics #Creativia requested fics #The Collector and little Luz

6 notes · View notes

winged-fool · 2 years

Note

Is it too early to ask for a summary? I am enjoying your description of the episode more than the actual episodes. Thank you.

Well who am I to deny the people what they want?? Sorry for the slight delay, I had to make myself dinner. As usual summary under the cut!

Okay so it starts with Clyde going to Theo's barn/church and taking all of the important stuff like the alien dragonfruit then burnt it down. It was Very Dramatic and they panned in on his snakeskin boots.

Maria tried to do a seance with Alex's Air Force sweatshirt (???) which OBVIOUSLY didn't work. Liz showed up and so did Rosa who said she was going to help Maria figure out what's going on with Alex. She also said this brilliant line that made no fucking sense but whatever.

Then Liz went home and had a brief moment with Max where they didn't really say anything new. Just continue to be utterly wrong for each other. He said that Bonnie and Dallas were missing and she was like oh so is Alex! And he was like oh shit Michael is going to lose it and she convinced him not to tell him for some fucking reason.

I don't remember what Michael and Max were doing...I think looking for Bonnie and Dallas? But whatever, then Michael went out to the desert for his search and lo bumped into Rosa and Maria and overheard them saying Alex was missing. And his reaction was meh lol

Michael lost his shit on Maria saying why would Alex be trying to contact her over him??? And how dare they keep this from him etc etc it was very nice and very cathartic. Then he went to the sheriff's office and punched Max, which was literally the best thing that has ever happened in this gd show. They got into a big scuffle before Max head locked him and Michael was like I walked through literal fire to save Liz Ortecho for you and you thought you could keep this from me?? And Max was like it was Liz's idea! Because he's an upstanding guy like that and takes the fall for his gf 🤪

Then he stomped off to his lair where Liz found him and he told her off too. But she had the antidote for his powers so he forgave her very quickly and also gave her advice with Max because it's ALLLL about the hets!

He quickly apologized to everyone for what he said which he absolutely did not need to do. His anger was justified and they cheapened it with his apologies but whatever.

At the Pony, the piano started playing Will You Come Home so then Michael started strumming the guitar along with him. Alex used lights to guide him, Rosa, and Maria to where he was quicksanded and Michael was ready to jump in to save him but then Max appeared out of nowhere and was like no! So he didn't. Also Maria can see like cosmos or something in the quicksand but who fucking cares why.

As usual, I think I got everything but lmk if I missed anything guys!

#my asks #anon ask #rnm s4 #rn spoilers #my shitty rnm recaps

15 notes · View notes

rhywhitefang · 1 year

Text

Last Hour References Part 1

Poor Lighton, disoriented, confused, and doesn't even have a shirt on his back </3 At first, I pictured our boy as blond but at this point, I do think the dark hair suits him in a different way :)

My favorite thing about Heliogabs outfit is the rubber boots :) And of course I had to feature the hook since they're putting it to such diligent use

I like Aiden's freckles, they make him look so cute. And how could I deny him his signature bow? Getting ready to shoot! The glass blower outfit. In the beginning the sleeves were just as poofy as his trousers but that looked quite ridiculous. Also ever since Phi pointed it out to me, I can't unsee that the pockets on his apron form a fucking smiley face. You're welcome.

I had a very clear vision for Caviens outfit from the beginning, with the one exception that I only added the pattern for his coat at the last minute though. I like that I did that though because I think it pulls the look together and makes it seem just a bit more fancy for our mayor here.

If you talked to me at all it's been pretty clear that I like Tesla a lot and I think that's evident from the way I draw him.

Honestly, I really like Lithos overalls, he looks adorable. I was a bit sloppy with the plaid pattern but I think you can still tell what it's supposed to be.

Diego's whole get up was super clear to me from the beginning, and it was one of the ones that already had a design before I did any of the others. The feather cape isn't even that much of a pain to draw and I think it really fits the whole vibe. It was the mask that I designed fresh for these, and I'm happy with it, I think it's the most "Venecian" mask out of all of them.

Speaking of masked dancers, I really wanted to emphasise the whole insect theme with Cas. This is why he has like, this almost armor-like body suit. You know, like an exoskeleton. With every body part being partitioned in its own section. Originally, I had the wings at his shoulders like a cape, but I like the look of this better, more ornamental at his hips. His mask has a pretty clear and detailed description in the story so I didn't have to interpret too much.

Fun fact! Joule is the only person in this arena wearing a dress! I even gave her a corset for it, and - sorry to gush - I think she looks just to die for. With her role, I thought it made sense to give her something-coat like, but I wanted to be cute, so I give her a little coat dress. She even gets a silly little hat^^

I've been told that Silvins snake theme isn't quite as obvious as I'd like it to be with his costume, which uh.... fair enough. I mean, he does have a snakeskin texture through his jacket and the flaps around his hood are supposed to be reminiscient of a cobra, but I can see how that doesn't totally come through. His mask is also the one that I'm not 100% satisfied with... it doesn't look very wearable ^^'

Tiffany's outfit is another one that's pretty clearly described, so I didn't have to add all that much. The fun is in picking the coloro f her headwrap.

I have an entire folder full of tattoos for Mateo^^ He's got a lot of them and only some of them are specifically described. Although I don't think I'll be drawing him shirtless any time soon for this exact reason.

I think Tave's outfit is the one that gets the most thorough description of all them in the story, so I honestly just drew what was described. My only addition is the off-the-shoulder cape. I just think it looks cool^^

#my art #last hour spoilers #last hour #lighton price #heliogab splendor #aiden lockhart #cavien cullus #tesla chang #lithos joliot #diego cortez #casimiro sanchez #joule otega #silvin vindan #tiffany golding #mateo valdez #tave nelson #character references #lindoodle

1 note · View note

evilasiangenius · 4 months

Text

TITLE: Anthony J. Crowley is Going to Burn Down a Goat (Yule)

SUMMARY: …and Aziraphale is going to try to stop him.

PAIRING: Aziraphale x Crowley

TAGS: Aziraphale is So Done with Crowley, Crowley is a Little Shit, Crowley Wears Pink, Love, Fluff and Humor, Food, Travel, Gävlebocken, Swedish Yule Goat, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, Birds, Hot Springs & Onsen, Seasonal but Non-Holiday

STATUS: Ongoing, 2/5

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

For @thelaithlyworm and @sigmastolen.

Chapter Two: Serious Regret

“It was not very nice,” Aziraphale said, “for me to be left dragging you about like that.”

An elderly person walked by, giving Aziraphale a skeptical look. A mother with young children gave him a wide berth, crossing the street to avoid him.

“Why?”

“Because everyone who saw us thought I was a murderer carrying a corpse in a carpet. A gangster. Some kind of vicious criminal. Until you wriggled free, and now they think I’m some...some kind of kidnapper or something. Or worse yet, a kidnapper and a pervert!”

“Relax, angel. They probably just think you’re doing a performance art. Or that I am doing a performance art. Perhaps we are both doing one together. It’s fine, it just means that people will leave us alone while we do a performance art.”

“That sounds perverted,” Aziraphale whispered sharply, dropping his voice so as not to be heard by others. “A performance art. In public? Goodness gracious, Crowley.”

“That’s always useful for getting nefarious doings done. The hint of perversion. Or the hint of performance art,” Crowley said, as he waved cheerfully to a man walking by who averted his gaze and hurried past without a word. “Adds a little spice. Perhaps I shall think up an interpretive dance to go along with the nefarious doings?”

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t just the insinuation of something questionable so much as not many men or man-shaped creatures in central Gävle stood around in a very stylish formal all-black ensemble with shiny snakeskin boots and a suit and shirt and tie on the razor-sharp papercut edge of fashion but then swathed themselves in a cheery bright pink fluffy blanket/scarf/shawl with a pink silk sleep mask slipped up over their forehead making bits of their hair stick up, despite already wearing a pair of fancy designer black sunglasses, all while staring at a straw Yule goat.

Someone walked by muttering invective about British tourists.

“But must you really burn down the goat?”

“Hmm, good question.” Crowley gave the goat a long considered look. “No, you’re right. Now that I see it, burning it down really does seem rather uninspired. And I aim to do something inspired.”

“Would inspiration be improved perhaps by a hot drink? Something caffeinated, perhaps, or mulled.”

“Temptation to inspiration: accomplished,” Crowley said wryly.

It was warm in the coffeeshop, but Crowley did not take off the blanket which was now draped about him quite stylishly in a way that suggested a model or an influencer to fashionable humans but really suggested something more like an ancient chlamys, pinned at the shoulder by infernal means.

“In case you were wondering,” Crowley said, his hands around a mug of hot mulled wine that was warming his fingers though not as comprehensively nor as comfortably as Aziraphale could, “I don’t know how I did it alone.”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked, glancing up from his mug of hot chocolate, swimming with plump marshmallows and whipped cream. “I was actually wondering how you convinced a barista to serve you mulled wine. I’m quite certain they don’t serve wine in coffeeshops...”

“On the train. You asked me how I managed to do it alone. I don’t know. I just did,” Crowley shrugged. “Every year, every month and week and day and hour. For thousands of years, just doing whatever it took to do the job. By myself. Trudging through mud, or on horseback (blech), or what have you. Lots of dusty roads and heaving ships and such. I don’t know how I managed.”

“When you put it that way...I don’t know how I managed either,” Aziraphale mused. “Yet at the same time, I can’t imagine what it would have been like otherwise.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I should have gone with you to Scotland. And Caerdydd. And that time to Dublin. Tokyo. Paris. Tenochtitlan. And you should have come with me those other times. Scotland. Caerdydd. Dublin. Tokyo, Paris, Mexico City, Alexandria, Rio. Kaffa. No wait, maybe not Kaffa, that was an unmitigated disaster. But remember Kyiv? That was fun when we went together, that time before the war. Not this last one, but the other one. The previous, previous one. The turn of the century one. Anyway, not enough witches on Bald Mountain, that was disappointing. Do you think there are still not enough witches there?”

“I suppose anything’s possible. It’s been some time since we’ve been. Perhaps they have multiplied over the years. But you don’t have to be sorry, my dear...”

“No, I am. Maybe that’s my only real serious regret, angel. Er, at least one of the top ten Real Serious Regrets. All those times I should have gone with you and I didn’t. All those times I left you to go alone when I should have come too. We could have managed better, if we had done it all together.”

“It’s all right, my dear. I don’t mind that you didn’t accompany me. I know you don’t like to travel,” Aziraphale said, omitting the part where it was ungodly difficult to travel with Crowley.

“I don’t dislike everything about travel. Okay, I hate a lot of things about traveling. Hot dusty days. Wet rainy days. Mud. Bad hotel beds. Airport security. I mean, I don’t know how many bones I’m supposed to have, who the hell knows these kinds of things? They’re, they’re always on about me not having enough or having too many or they’re in the wrong place...

“Oh and horses. I hate anything to ride that’s four-legged, really, except camels. I like camels, but not to ride. But I like driving,” Crowley said thoughtfully, watching the humans pass by the cafe windows. “And I like walking. And ships, especially ones that depend on wind and sails. I like seeing new sights, listening to new people, and I like the things you can do by yourself. But...I don’t mind any of that if it’s with you. Even the things I don’t like, or the things I like doing by myself. It’s fine when it’s with you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, with a blush that made the demon smile.

“Now finish your cocoa, angel,” Crowley said, downing the steaming wine in one go, licking his lips. “I’ve got a goat to burn.”

“Oh no...”

#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #fic: crowley goat burn

0 notes

hassingiqbal38 · 1 year

Text

RuneScape / Heartwarming - tV Tropes

Heartwarming / RuneScape

Go to

WARNING This is a subpage for Moments for RuneScape spoilers are all unmarked according to the policy. Go beyond this point only when you are brave! You've been warned.

Zanik's letter to the Player Character in Postbag 45, in response to Video Game Caring Potential.Wow. It's incredible.

I'm trying to figure out the best way to explain this in a way that you can comprehend. I'm not sure what to say that will make sense. I don't even know if it makes sense in my head. But I know what I need to do, and I'm required to explain it to you.

Right now, I'm on the top of a mountain near the ocean. The sun is rising. Every time I see it, I'm thinking of you. You first showed it to me, the sky and the sun, and I'll always remember that. You gave me a glimpse of the surface. We had an incredible adventure, and I'll never forget that.

And I'd be lying if I said I did not feel something for you. As we stood in front of the portal, as we were about confronting Bandos and the Bandos, a part of me wanted to hug you and kiss you. But I thought that was crazy, I'd just thought of an evil god in my head and thought I was going to die. I was not thinking clearly and so in the end I didn't do anything. Now it seems that you wanted me not to. I must apologize and clarify.

It's like...all the time we were adventuring together, it was all about you. You know? You were the hero and I was your sidekick. I kept getting into trouble and you kept rescuing me. Even at the conclusion, when we defeated Bandos and I was knocked out, and you went on to finish it on your own. In a way, I kind of resent this. It was something I wished I had done.

I don't want my whole life to look like that. I want to prove that I am an adventurer and hero in my own right. Not just someone's sidekick. Even not your own. So that's why I'm travelling on my own this moment, and am not looking for travel companions or any kind of serious relationship.

I hope you understand.

I will always think of you every when I look up at the sun.

~Zanik~

- Speaking of Zanik, take her to speak to Xenia during the tour of Lumbridge in "Death to the Dorgeshuun" They'll be in a frank and friendly relationship. It's a refreshing change in pace to be able to see Xenia so warm and genuine, considering how dishonest and vicious Xenia is sometimes in her spotlight appearances. - If you completed Tutorial Island before it was removed from the game, all of the tutors will remember you in some way. This is what the prayer tutor said: The music is the original Newbie Melody- the first song to be unlocked in the game, in all its MIDI glory. Pure, unadulterated nostalgia. The possibility of returning to this location is enough to make it feel warm and fuzzy. Jagex faithfully recreated the entire experience with an underwater twist. Calisto mebel Unfortunately, you won't get the chance to bring it up. However you can save all of its teachers. A note of special interest to Mei the Grey's line before you take her out. Sani Piliu's blue hair dyed is done in a bright blue shell. Harold Evans has nail beast nails to showcase his tattoos. Since he wore it as armor, Andiess Juip is covered in snakeskin. Flaygian Screwte owns an Ivandis Flail. This weapon was created by you and him. - Kael Forshaw wears rune boots because he was losing his shoes. Mekritus A'hara has Mort Myre Pears, which he consumed to swell himself. Radigad Ponfit consumed moonlight mead often. - Vertida Sefalatis is a flamboyant stake-thrower crossbow that he preferred. Polmafi Ferdygris owns a copy Histories of the Hallowland as an ode to his research as an academic. -- Safalaan Hallow has holy water to honor his icyene roots. - Along the way, you find a group of headless ice golems, and you and Violet help give them new heads. They cheer happily with each new head you give one. Violet is determined to roar to create a snow avalanche to solve the puzzles. Her father offers to roar for her, however, the player snuffs him out. He declares that this is Violet's adventure and she just wants to have fun. Towards the end of the story, Violet starts getting nervous. Violet worries that she won't be liked by other children of yetis, and won't want to play with them. The player reassures her that as a sweet girl and an adventurer, the kids will love her. They are right. When the party arrives in town on a sled the other kids are amazed by her, and extremely impressed by the route she took to reach her destination, and she runs off with a smile on her face. After the quests, you talk with your father and he asks if you'd like to remain. If you say you won't then he asks:

Index

#Calisto mebel #Calistomebel

0 notes

ela-vii · 3 years

Photo

It's so fun, we're so good at selling lies

#quackity #quackity fanart #dsmp fanart #dsmp lore #dsmp #mcyt #mcyt fanart #look i gave him SNAKESKIN BOOTS #also sorry for being gone for so long #ive been held hostage by twitter #winged!quackity #c!quackity

4K notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

(Because - as has rightfully been pointed out - the angel needs his cuddles, too.)

“Crowley?”

“Nnnnh?” The sprawl of limbs dozing on the sofa shifted, resolving into six feet of lazy demon.

“Can you help me with this?” Rising up on his toes, Aziraphale gestured with the book in his hand. “I can’t quite reach the top shelf.”

“Don’t you have a stool or something?”

“It’s on the other side of the shop, and you’re right here.”

With another groan, Crowley rolled off the sofa in a strange, almost fluid motion, and sauntered across the room. “Where does it go?”

“Just there.” He pointed again as Crowley took the book, glaring at the top shelf. It was, in reality, slightly too high for either of them to reach.

Crowley stretched, standing on his own toes, one hand resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder for balance, until he could just barely get the corner of the book into the gap between two others, and shoved it hard into place.

“There. If that broke the thing, s’not my fault.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of…thank you, my dear.”

“Mmmh.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a half-grin before wandering back towards his favorite resting spot.

Behind his back, Aziraphale pressed his own hand to where his shoulder still burned with lovely heat.

“Crowley? I think I could use a hand again.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned. “You going to tell me you can’t reach your own mugs now?”

Aziraphale glanced at the cupboard again. It did look too low for that, didn’t it? “Of course not. I…I think I should reorganize my wine. I need you to hold some bottles for me.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Some of those wine bottles haven’t moved in over a century. Why would you need to do this now?”

“That…” He felt a flash of embarrassment, quickly turned it into indignation. “That’s hardly any of your concern, now is it? You come to my shop, day after day, just to lounge about. This isn’t one of your – your ancient temples, you can’t just laze around while the human worshippers fan you and feed you peeled grapes…”

A shadow fell across Aziraphale, and he turned to see Crowley, leaning against the doorway to the little kitchen, lopsided grin on his face. “That’s a very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and turned back to the wine, grabbing a few bottles at random. “It’s not a – a fantasy. I know what you used to get up to in Egypt. And Greece. And a dozen other snake-worshipping cultures.”

“I was hardly—oof.” He grabbed the bottle of red that Aziraphale had all but thrust into his stomach, long fingers dragging across the back of Aziraphale’s hand, leaving behind a trail of fireworks.

“Good. That.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, staring at a row of champagne bottles. “That should go in the, er, Italian section. Tuscany.”

“You going to arrange them geographically now?”

“Of course! Region, then year, then type of grape. Perfectly logical. These are from, um, Piedmont.” He held out two more bottles.

Shrugging, Crowley put the first on the table and reached out. Aziraphale stood perfectly still, so that he couldn’t miss Crowley’s smallest finger brushing against his thumb in passing.

“Now what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m – I’m sweeping under the sofa. Kindly move those – those pipe cleaners you call legs.”

“You never sweep.”

“That’s entirely untrue.” Aziraphale reached as far as his arm would go, vaguely sliding the brush from side to side. Shuffled a little to the left, until his shoulder bumped up against Crowley’s calf, fire bursting through him again.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, and in an instant the legs were gone, neatly folded up beneath him.

Blast. Aziraphale glanced up with feigned concern. “You better not be putting your boots on…ah.” Crowley wiggled his toes, covered in a black snakeskin sock that was a little too skin-tight and convincing. With a grin and a shrug, the demon curled in on himself again, neatly out of the way, and turned his attention back to his mobile phone.

“Right. Well. Good.” Aziraphale ducked his head, and scrubbed hard at the floor.

“Crowley, help me move this chair.”

“Crowley, hold this ladder while I climb.”

“Crowley, hand me that cloth, I dropped it again.”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley, come over here, I need your hands again.”

“Are you going to pay me for all this work?”

“Nonsense. I’m exploiting you, like any good capitalist.” He pressed his hands down on the cover of the book, sharp scent of glue filling the air. “Come along, I can’t actually go over there to get you.”

Another string of garbled syllables, and once again Crowley stood at his shoulder. “What are you doing this time?”

“I’m rebinding this book. The glue sets overnight, so I need you to hold it while I get something heavy to put on top.”

“Um.” A long pause. “I can get something heavy for you.”

“No, I need you to hold this.”

Another pause, this time the silence tinged with suspicion. “Don’t you have a – a press or something?”

Aziraphale kept his eyes firmly forward, away from Crowley. “Will you just…stop asking foolish questions and do as you’re asked?”

Two hands slapped down onto the cover, perfectly between Aziraphale’s without touching either of them. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s shoulder, so tantalizingly close.

“Well?” Crowley finally prompted. “Aren’t you going to move?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Not when you’re holding it wrong. Look. You need to be here, in front of the book.”

“Yeah. Where you’re standing.” Aziraphale could feel the look Crowley shot through his glasses.

“Oh, fine.” Removing his hands, Aziraphale stepped back and to the side, letting the demon take his place. “No, not like that! Honestly, my dear fellow, you need to pay more attention.”

“Wha—?”

Before he could think better of it, Aziraphale’s hands shot out, carefully encircling Crowley’s waist, just above the hips. “Center yourself,” he said, nudging to the left as his arms soaked in wave after wave of heat. Not enough. “And a little closer.” An infinitesimal push, enough to bring his chest almost, almost against Crowley’s back. He ached for it, that last bit of space.

Well. There was one option.

“Good. Now. Just need to position your hands correctly.”

Leaning forward, Aziraphale placed his hands on the backs of Crowley’s, pressing against his back. His feet shifted, and now his chin rested on that black-clad shoulder, and his legs bracketed Crowley’s, his arms rested against Crowley’s…

Every part of them, together.

With his eyes closed, everything else fell away, except for Crowley, his presence fluttering under Aziraphale’s skin like a second heartbeat. He drank it in, more and more, trying to fill every empty space inside himself, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough—

“Angel?”

In an instant, he was back in the shop, stumbling away. “Yes. That. That should…I’ll…”

Aziraphale spun and hurried away, closing his ears to the worry in Crowley’s voice.

“Crowley? Can you—”

“Nope.”

“I…” Aziraphale tried to muster up his indignation again, but after the bookbinding fiasco, it was impossible. “Of course. I’ll just…”

“Nope, I need your help.”

He turned, slowly, to where the long shape of his companion sprawled across the sofa, one foot over the arm, the other dangling off the side, hands folded behind his head.

“What…what do you need.”

Crowley lifted one hand and pointed to a shelf behind the sofa. “That one.”

“I…” Aziraphale moved closer, trying to see what he was pointing at. “You want a book?”

“Mmmh. Right there.”

Frowning, he took a few more steps. “Isn’t that a dictionary?”

“Nnh? No, not that one, that one.” The finger didn’t move.

“Why…why can’t you…?”

With a snort, Crowley dropped his hand, tucked it behind his head again. “Sprained my back doing all your chores. I’m out of commission. I need a book to entertain me during my long convalescence.”

“And what happened to your clever little telephone?”

“Finished it.”

“You…you finished it?”

“Yup. Browsed the whole internet. Found the end. Lousy twist in the last chapter.”

From the tilt of his head, Aziraphale could tell that Crowley’s eyes were shut, lost in the perverse joy of his silly claims. That should have made this easier, but he still hesitated as he leaned across the sofa, rested his hand on the back. His arms passed over the top of Crowley’s head by several centimeters.

“Did you mean…this one?” His fingers hovered over a likely tome.

“Hmm. Nope. Further down.”

A step to the side, knees coming close to where Crowley’s leg carelessly hung, as if it were too much work to pull it onto the sofa with the rest of him. “This one?”

“One shelf down.”

He bent even lower, until his stomach hovered, just above—

Crowley struck, fast as a serpent, his lazy sprawl suddenly a flurry of motion as arms and legs grappled Aziraphale, constricted, twisted around to slam him into the sofa cushions, to lie there with Crowley straddling his middle, hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered so that he could hardly breathe.

“Good. Now. What do you want?”

“I…” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Yes. You do.” One hand shot up and ripped his glasses off, tossing them aside, then pressed down again on the angel’s chest. Golden eyes bore into him. “Bless it, Aziraphale, all day you’ve asked me to do everything except for – whatever it is you need! Just tell me!”

“I…” He pressed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his skin burned, electrified, alive. “I can’t. It’s…it’s foolish. It’s too much…”

“Angel.” Softer now, so soft it could break his heart. “Nothing will ever be too much. Just ask.”

“No…”

“I can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

With an effort, Aziraphale managed to press one trembling hand against his eyes. Tried hard to steady himself. “Crowley. I…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel…cold. Empty. Alone, even with you here. Like something inside me just…died, and left me hollow…”

The weight shifted, easing off his shoulders, and when he looked, Crowley was sitting up. Further away.

“Do you…did Heaven do something to you? When you left?”

“No.” How his voice shook! “No, I – I thought that at first, but…in truth…it’s been coming on…for simply ages.” The shop grew misty, and Aziraphale closed his eyes again. “A little worse every time I – I felt my superiors’ disappointment. Every time I failed at a task. Every…every time I visited Heaven and realized…I didn’t belong.” He tried to rub his eyes again and found they were wet. “No…no this isn’t anything but…my own…inadequacy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true! I’m not…not strong they way you are.” His hand reached out, grasping, and found Crowley’s, wrapping gently around his fingers. It surged through him again, warmth, strength, solidity. Everything Aziraphale lacked. “I can feel it in you. It’s beautiful. And I want – want to drink it in, fill myself, but I’m bottomless, I just take, and take, and it’s not enough. It will never be enough!” He pulled his hand away, ready to flee from the sofa, to hide from his shame. Ready for his only friend to pull away in disgust at his selfishness, his greed.

Instead, Crowley lowered himself, stretching his long body across Aziraphale, head tucked under his chin, hands resting on his arms. “Is this better?”

It swept through him again and again, with every beat of Crowley’s heart. Not just heat. Something that Aziraphale had been lacking, craving, for more centuries than the Earth had existed.

Love.

A sob escaped him, pitiful, even as he drank it all in, greedily, more than he ever deserved, possessive arms twisting around Crowley as if to pull him into Aziraphale’s chest.

“S’alright,” Crowley murmured, and his hand pressed against the curve of Aziraphale’s cheek, brilliant as starlight. “How’s this? Any different?”

“Yes, it’s…” There was no hope he’d ever be able to control his voice again. “It’s stronger when…ah…when we touch…directly.”

“Got it.”

And just like that, the weight on his chest vanished, leaving him empty and cold again.

Of course.

Aziraphale sat up, trying to wipe his eyes dry, humiliated by the loss of composure. “If you want to leave,” he managed, blinking them clear, “I won’t…”

Crowley stood before him, jacket and tie discarded, fingers flicking down the buttons of his black shirt.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“You said touching directly, right? Skin to skin?”

“You…you can’t be serious.” A different sort of heat began to race into his cheeks.

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged, rolling the shirt off his shoulders as he did. “If it helps you…”

“No, my dear – you don’t understand. I want more than – than you could ever give me. I’d – I’d drain you entirely if I could.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He pulled off the last layer, a blac vest, then bent forward, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Besides. Everything I have is yours. Our side, remember?”

Aziraphale bowed his head, fists clenched in his lap. “You…can’t mean that…”

“Angel.” He felt the warm press of Crowley’s forehead against his own. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

Slowly, slowly, Aziraphale tugged at his bowtie, trying to remember how to loosen it.

Moonlight filtered in through the bookshop windows.

Crowley lay on the floor, Aziraphale curled up against his bare chest, arms around his shoulders, one leg hooked over his knees – clinging to him like a lifeline even in sleep. Some of the strain was finally starting to leak out of his furrowed brow, though he was still a long way from looking like himself.

The fingers of one hand ran through Aziraphale’s curls, carefully, rhythmically. Crowley had never seen the angel sleep before, but as soon as he’d started carefully scratching at his scalp, those blue eyes had begun to drift shut. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but if there was even a chance that this was helping him rest, Crowley would be damned, blessed, and cast into the void before he’d even consider stopping.

Everywhere they touched – which was just about everywhere – Crowley could feel something, an energy buzzing off Aziraphale’s skin. He’d felt it before, many times, but never this distinctly; it curled into him, whether he wanted it or not, flowing through his veins, keeping his heart beating.

“Y’know,” he whispered, slightly worried that the motion of the air would be enough to waken the angel. “You really shouldn’t have worried. Steal my strength? Ridiculous.”

Aziraphale shifted, just a little, pulling himself closer.

“I don’t have a blessed ounce of strength of my own. Or warmth. Solidity? Give me a break.”

A cloud must have moved out of the way; the moonlight suddenly grew brighter, and the pale angel seemed almost to glow in the silver light. Ethereal beauty.

“No. Whatever I’ve got, whatever’s kept me going, for thousands of years – it all comes from you.”

His angel shivered, just faintly, and Crowley quickly miracled up a thick blanket, wrapping it around both of them. Aziraphale sighed, fingers kneading and relaxing across Crowley’s skin.

“So you see, s’not a problem if you need it all. It’s already yours. Everything I have. Everything I am. Yours.”

Crowley was wrong for two reasons.

First, the warmth they felt hadn’t begun in Aziraphale, any more than it had in Crowley. It was a different kind of force, generated by their proximity to each other, and flowing constantly from one to the other, an eternal cycle. The strength belonged to both of them, and neither of them.

Second, of course, it would never run out. After all, love is increased – never diminished – by being shared.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #good omens fluff #ineffable partners #crowley #aziraphale #sleepy cuddles #ineffable snuggle #emotional hurt/comfort #protective crowley #lonely aziraphale #crowley loves his angel #sneks give good hugs even in human form #this got long #my writing #tumblr fic

868 notes · View notes

unculturedswine-101 · 2 years

Text

Son of a lovin’ man

A/N: I made some slight changes from what you see on screen, but I tried my best to keep it consistent. Also the “Hugh” that I’m referring to is Hugh Hefner; the founder of Playboy Magazine.

Cliff’s outfit: https://celebleatherjackets.com/Once-Upon-A-Time-In-Hollywood-Brad-Pitt-Jacket

Rick’s outfit: https://vintagedancer.com/1960s/1960s-mens-fashion/ (second image down brown coat and orange turtleneck)

Cliff’s POV:

“Rick, you almost ready?!” Cliff yelled, putting on his white jacket.

It was a pretty big deal that Rick was getting invited to a Playboy mansion party. Actually it was a big deal that Rick was getting invited to any kind of big party, given the fact that he hadn’t been doing anything big career wise. It was only when Rick overheard that Hugh was a big fan of ‘Bounty Law’ that he and Rick got acquainted and became good friends. Such good friends that Hugh extended an invitation to him (and a plus one) to a party at the mansion.

“How do I look?” Rick strutted into the living room, boots clunking against the wood floor. “Outta sight my friend, but we gotta hurry if we wanna make it to this party” Rick nodded as they left the house and got into Rick’s 1966 Cadillac Coupe de Ville. “S’okay if I turn on the radio?” Cliff asked while Rick sat in the back bouncing his leg “y-yeah it’s all right” he stuttered looking out the window.

*Deep purple’s Hush plays*

“I got a certain little girl on my mind, no doubt about it she looks so fine. She’s the best girl that I ever had no doubt about it make me feel so bad. Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na”

Cliff looked up at the rear view seeing Rick’s nervousness, “you okay back there buddy?” “I don’t know if I can do this Cliff, I-I mean have you h-heard who’s gonna be there?” He looks at Cliff worried, looking for some kind of advice as they turn out of Cielo drive. “So what if there’s going to be a lot of hot shots there? You know what else is gonna be there? A lotta girls!” Rick smacks Cliff’s shoulder a smile spreading on his face “Hey, hey and m-maybe they’rell be some for you too Cliff! He kept his eyes focused on the road “I highly doubt it!”

Your POV:

Sharon had been your friend for years, ever since meeting on the set of ‘Valley of the Dolls’ with you as a makeup artist, you two had been inseparable. “Oh my god Sharon, you look amazing!” You commented at Sharon’s yellow ensemble, complete with makeup done by you of course. “I know! Is that what you’re wearing y/n?” “Yeah” you laughed as you looked down at your outfit, was it outdated? Yes. But was it within your budget as a makeup artist? Yes. “Not on my watch!” Sharon smiled grabbing your hand to her room where she opened her closet flipping through clothes. “With parties at the Mansion you have to find just the right thing…aha!” Sharon pulled out a short white dress with long sleeves.

The dress: https://pin.it/685mBGr

“Oh and that belt that goes with it of course!” She turned around grabbing a silver belt holding the items out for you. “Sharon..I don’t know what to say..” She smiled at your enamoured face, “Say you’ll wear to the party! Cmon I’m sure you’ll look like a total fox!” You gave up, “Alright..give me a second” you laughed taking the garments to the bathroom to change. “Wow was Sharon right” you thought to yourself, turning around seeing how the outfit hugged your curves. Confidently you strutted to Sharon who was in the living room, doing up her snakeskin coat. “See! What did I tell you? An absolute fox! Now cmon Roman’s got the car started”. You and Sharon went inside the car and sped away to the mansion.

—————————Short time skip—————————

Cliff’s POV:

Cliff finally pulled into the mansion but before Cliff or Rick can even get out the valet asks “And who are you?” But Hugh comes up behind the Valet before I or Rick can respond “Sorry about this Rick, This here’s Rick Dalton, and uh sorry I didn’t catch your name..” “Cliff Booth, Rick’s stunt double” Cliff saluted. “Right, make sure you park Rick’s car nice and close so they can leave easily” he pats the valet on the back “Right away Mr. Hefner!” The young boy nods taking the keys from Cliff as Rick and Cliff get out of the car. Hugh instantly puts an arm around Rick talking to him about something Cliff could care less about as Cliff makes his way through the mansion to the backyard. Cliff decides to park himself on a boulder, taking a drink from a tray of one of the playboy bunnies, looking her up and down….this might not be such a bad party after all.

Your POV:

With you in the back and Sharon and Roman in the front, you arrive at the mansion. “Oh look they’re here!” Sharon points out, referring to Steve McQueen, Michelle Phillips and Jay Sebring. Roman honks his horn as they all wave with Michelle and Steve smoking cigarettes. As you all get out of the car Roman plops the keys to the car in the valet hand “Welcome to the Playboy Mansion Mr. Polanski”. “Heyy, how are doing baby?” Steve opens his arms as Sharon jumps and Steve spins her around “And y/n, always nice to see you!” Steve says pulling you in for a hug “Nice to see you Stevie!” You comment, as you and him embrace (Steve and you had a fling for a while but you both knew it was never going to last, but you two are still on good terms). You, Sharon and Michelle all entered the mansion while Jay and Roman got reacquainted behind you as “Son of a lovin’ man” by the Buchanan brothers blasted from speakers. Then all three of you met up with mama Cass and Sharon hugged “And you remember y/n right?” You smiled as you met eyes with Cass “Of course! Now cmon let’s dance!” All four of you skipped to the dance area where everyone seemed to be happy; people dancing in the pool, people dancing on the stone floor laughing and having a good time. Then you all broke off dancing and grooving to the music.

Cliff’s POV:

It had been about 15 minutes of Cliff sitting there sipping away at his drink taking in the party, he wasn’t much of a dancer and he didn’t really know anyone at there, but he was happy sitting there just the same. It wasn’t until he heard some loud laughing from the doors that piqued his interest; Sharon Tate, Michelle Phillips, Mama Cass…and a beautiful woman next to the three other women, who was she? They all danced down the steps and skipped past Cliff but despite the popularity of the other three women, he could not take his eyes off of you, the way the red party lights hit every one of your features as you swung your hips just made him more enamoured with your beauty. And although his usual forwardness with ladies, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up, Cliff Booth, was too scared to go up to a girl and ask her out.

Your POV:

Many songs had played by this point and you were getting tired, you decided to sit down next to a good looking man who was pulling out a cigarette.

“Hey, can I have one?” You asked the blonde “Sure darlin’” you smiled at the nickname as you plucked one out of the red apple box putting it between your lips. “I’m guessing’ you need a light?” You nodded as the man put the flame of his lighter to your cigarette as you deeply inhaled then exhaled as did he.

“Man, these cigarettes are shit..no offense” you look up at him taking another drag. He laughs, “None taken, my buddy Rick was sponsored by Red Apple a few years back, and he hated them so now he just has surplus of cigarettes..and someone needs to smoke ‘em” he sighed and examining the cigarette. “So what’s your name?” You asked examining his features. “Cliff, and yours?” “Y/n” you smiled. “Y/n” Cliff repeats looking you up and down making you blush.

“And what is it you do for a livin’ Miss. y/n?” This guy was really hot, his voice, his eyes and his sandy blonde hair made you feel butterflies all over “I’m a makeup artist” you responded shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “Makeup artist, for who? Sharon?” “Sort of, I met her on the set of Valley of the Dolls, and I’ve been her makeup artist/best friends for 3 years now” “Well sheit..” Cliff seems at a loss for words “My buddy Rick, y’know the one I was talkin’ about, he’s an actor. Lives right next to Sharon on Cielo Drive!” Your eyes widened “Really I’m over there all the time! I never really noticed any of her neighbours…small world” you shrugged. Hey you think any of your makeup skills could cover up any of these wrinkles?” He pointed to the wrinkles on his forehead. “I don’t think so..besides I like a man with a little experience” you teased caressing your hand against the silver and brown stubble on face. Cliff looked down smiling as The Turtles “Happy Together” started playing.

Imagine me and you, I do, I think about you day and night it’s only right to think about the girl you love and hold her tight..so happy together….

“Hey you wanna dance” you smiled taking Cliff’s large hand in yours. “I’m not really a dancer darlin’” Cliff said still sitting on the boulder “aw cmon just one song?” You begged putting out your cigarette on the ground crushing it with your boot. “Oh alright, but just this one” he reluctantly got up as you still held his hand leading him to the dance floor.

If I should call you up, invest a dime, and you say you belong to me, and ease my mind. Imagine how the world could be fine, So happy together….

You flung both your arms around Cliff’s neck as he put his hands at your waist; the feeling of them sent shivers down your spine as you danced with him.

——————Another time skip———————————

Untrue to your words you danced with Cliff for more than one song but Cliff didn’t seem to mind, seeing how much fun you were having.

Suddenly Sharon came behind you and tapped you on the shoulder “Hey y/n Roman and I were thinking of heading home is that okay with you?” You were suddenly released from Cliff’s grasp as you turned around “Oh for sure, it is getting kind of late…Oh Sharon, this is Cliff, Cliff this is Sharon” “Nice to meet ya” Cliff smiled shaking Sharon’s hand “likewise” Sharon smiled “Cliff’s friends Rick actually lives right next to you!” You added trying to ease the awkwardness “Oh right, Rick Dalton right? Roman and I have been meaning to come over and say hello” Cliff nodded “Hey it’s all good”. Roman came up the three people chatting “Ready to go?” “Yup!” Sharon quipped “It was nice meeting you Cliff! Cmon y/n” Sharon and Roman held hands as they walked back inside the house “I’ll be there in a minute!” You called as you fiddled through the items in your purse till you found what you were looking for; a pen. You then picked up Cliff’s arm writing down your phone number as you put the cap back on and put the pen back in your purse “Call me!” You winked as you turned around and jogged up the stairs, Cliff staring at you till you disappeared into the house.

Not a bad party at all..

#cliff booth imagines #cliff booth #once upon a time in hollywood #sharon tate #rick dalton #quentin tarantino #brad pitt #margot robbie #leonardo dicaprio #1960s #Spotify

45 notes · View notes

cr0g-0 · 3 years

Text

People it is finally here!

The long awaited 3 part (Or sequel to Snake Surprise. Part 2 was actually a prequel in terms of the story) is finally here!

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

Snakeskin

Tw-Safe Vore, Mentions of Death, Swearing, Dehumanization, Mentions of Murder (Making Threats)

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

By the time Tommy had let the two humans out they had been asleep for sometime.

While the naga had felt joy in scaring them and taking them he knew he should at least apologize to his new pets.

So he began to pace back and forth, his tail slithering behind him as he thought about what he should say to the to. He obviously needed to introduce himself...

Techno had been pretending to be asleep, mostly so he could watch over his brother as they had sat in the literal belly of the beast.

When the stomach had contracted and pushed around them, sending his brother back up the throat.

That was the weirdest thing he had ever seen.

He was soon pushed up into the tight and slick muscle and ended up in the naga's hand shortly thereafter.

Tommy softly smiled at the sleeping human in his hand before getting the other one to see he was glaring at him.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

Tommy hissed out, placing the still asleep one in a makeshift cage made of sticks.

This pink haired human seemed very angry but also...weirdly calm...however, the human didn't respond, glaring at his with eyes that could kill.

"Ooooookkkkkk then don't talk."

He placed the human in the cage, seeing them frown before they cleared their throat.

"What are you gonna do with us." The pinkette practically growled.

"Well obviously I won't kill you because I would have killed you before I let you out. You two are clearly helpless so I'll be keeping you just to make sure your safe-"

"So we're pets? Because that doesn't sit well with the two of us, especially him." He pointed at the brunet who was still fast asleep.

Techno looked the naga up and down before grinning slightly, a devious glint in his eyes. "Ya know, your scales could make really good snakeskin boots...maybe armor as well."

Tommy slithered back slightly, his eyes widened. "Your bluffing! You wouldn't be able to kill me you bitch!" He crossed his arms defensively, narrowing his eyes.

'Pah! A human could never kill me! Who does he think he is?!'

Tommy huffed silently before quickly snatched the other into a tight fist and squeezed, getting a panicked noise as they woke ups, fear in their eyes as they awoke.

The human began to squirm as the naga brought him up to his face, flashing his teeth menacingly.

"I'll bite his fucking head off and I'll make you watch if you try and do anything to me, got it?"

He glared at the tiny, smirking a little as he saw the shaking and the nod as the human in the cage took a few steps back.

"Good. Now what should I name you two?" He asked while idly poking and squeezing the one in his hand, getting more whimpers and squeaks.

"W-We already have names..." Wilbur timidly mumbled, taking shaky breaths in and out.

This hadn't been fun to wake up to after having been eaten by the creature who now held his life in his hands...

The giant naga raised a brow and looked at the human moved closer to him. "Oh really? What are they then?"

"I-I'm Wilbur and that's T-Techno..." He stuttered, his voice shaking the entire time.

The naga seemed satisfied with his answer before placing him back in the cage beside Techno and leaning in front of it.

"I'm Tommy and I'll be your owner from here on."

The naga gave the two a wide smile, his eyes affixed on the humans while his mind began to race with several thoughts but one stuck out in particular.

'Hopefully Phil didn't mind him keeping some humans as pets.'

#tiny!wilbur #tiny!techno #???!phil #giant!tommy #naga!tommy #Snake Surprise #tw vore #tw threats #mcyt g/t community #mcyt g/t #smog writes

97 notes · View notes

miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

Begin Again, part two

with Mathew Barzal

a/n: in honor of @kerwritesthings’ birthday (that’s right, go wish her a happy one if you haven’t already!)… Hayden and Mat are back! part one was one of the earlier pieces I wrote, and it was a combo of a reader/oc, which I don’t really like to use in my writing now, but I’m sticking with it for consistency’s sake. title is based on T Swift's song, which I obviously don't own and all that stuff.

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, nothing graphic

word count: 5.3K+

_____

“Hayden!” you heard from across the Coliseum concourse, just moments after you’d stepped through the doors of the main entrance. A stunning platinum blonde with a dazzling smile quickly approached, waving excitedly. Your first instinct was to look over your shoulder to try and determine who the woman was speaking to, since you didn’t recognize her, but she had called your name.

Instead, you forced a small smile and tentatively stepped toward her. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, she gathered you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger!” she exclaimed, then stepped back and fanned a hand across her chest. You couldn’t help but notice the rock on her left ring finger, not to mention her perfectly manicured nails and pristine blue silk Islanders jacket, paired with a white t-shirt, black jeans, and snakeskin boots. “I’m Sydney, but you can call me Syd. It’s Sydney Esiason Martin, actually. I’m Matt Martin’s wife, but all the guys just call him Marty,” she explained, her hands gesturing animatedly all the while.

It was all coming together in your brain now, that Mat must have arranged for Sydney to be on the lookout for you, and you nodded slowly, your smile growing.

“I’m Hayden,” you offered, but of course, she already knew that, you thought as you mentally kicked yourself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, and Marty, too.”

Sydney beamed, her eyes glittering. “Yeah, you, too!” she said. “It isn’t often Barzy brings a girl around the group. Well, honestly… it isn’t ever, actually,” she said with a lighthearted giggle. “You must be pretty special.”

You breathed a chuckle and swiped your tongue along your bottom lip, lost for words.

Sydney must have sensed your unease, because after a beat, she gave your upper arm a light squeeze and nodded her head toward the escalators leading to the suite level.

“C’mon, I’ll show ya where we’re sitting,” she said. “I’m starving. I think I want a pretzel with cheese. Are you hungry? They have the most incredible nachos up there, just wait…”

And as Sydney rambled on about the delicacies to be found in the family suite, your anxieties about meeting the people there suddenly shrunk, and you found yourself thinking that you were going to like this “Syd.”

_____

The game was a blowout.

New York beat Ottawa 6-1, and Mat had a goal and three assists, not to mention the night’s second star. You had held your own in the family box, and Sydney had been the perfect guide — introducing you to the kindest of the guys’ partners and avoiding the ones that side-eyed you standoffishly, whispering in your ear that so-and-so had dated two NHLers in the past, and so-and-so and her boyfriend were constantly on and off, and that Syd didn’t expect them to be around for long, so don’t worry about them. You mostly spent the evening nodding along politely to various conversations, giggling at Sydney’s over-the-top antics, and making small talk with some of the veterans’ wives. They all seemed relieved to know that you were familiar with the hockey world and, therefore, had at least a hint of what you were (potentially) getting yourself into.

But one thing you hadn’t expected? When Syd turned to you a few minutes after the game ended and said, “Oh! Matt just texted me. He said Barzy wants me to bring you downstairs.”

You swallowed your last sip of beer, hard.

“Downstairs?” you asked softly after a long pause.

“Uh huh!” Sydney nodded emphatically, tucking her phone into her Louis Vuitton bag and patting your knee. “He probably wants to introduce you to some of the boys. Don’t worry,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, doing her best to calm your nerves.

You nodded slowly and reached for your own, much less expensive, bag. “O-okay.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the depths of the Coliseum in a lounge across from the locker room, Sydney chatting away about how when playoffs start, you’ll have to join her and the other girls for tailgating in the parking lot before the game, because it’s such a blast, and it’s a lot easier to watch your significant other knock the shit out of someone (or get the shit knocked out of him) when you’re tipsy. You stayed noncommittal, all the while questioning in your mind whether Mat would even want you around once playoffs started.

But you didn’t have long to dwell on that, because a moment later, the locker room door swung open, and two tall, broad, light brown-haired men stepped through it, Mat close on their heels. You could have sworn you heard him sharply whisper “please don’t embarrass me” before they crossed the hallway, but then again, maybe that was just in your head, because immediately after, Mat gave you a huge smile and stepped forward to pull you in for a hug.

“Hey!” he greeted warmly, then completely caught you off guard by pecking your lips, right there in front of half a dozen of his teammates and their partners.

You touched your fingertips to your lips, feeling them buzzing at the unexpected contact. You recovered as quickly as you could and smiled back at him, lost in the way he looked in his sharp grey suit and in how he smelled fresh out of the shower.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

And just as you studied Mat’s appearance, he was studying yours — taking in your royal blue blazer, the way your light-wash jeans hugged your curves perfectly, and, of course, admiring the Manolo Blahniks you’d scrimped and saved for two years to purchase.

“Nice shoes,” Mat commented, winking flirtatiously. You giggled, his words echoing the very first he had ever spoken to you back in the coffee shop. “Seriously, though, you look beautiful, Hayden,” he added.

Your cheeks warmed, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you glanced down at your feet.

“Thanks, Maty,” you said quietly. “You look great, too.”

With an appreciative nod, he pressed his hand to your lower back and guided you nearer to the men accompanying him, who had already greeted their significant others — Syd kissing Matt, and Grace, you remembered, hugging her husband, whose name you couldn’t quite recall.

“Well, Hayd, you know Syd and Grace now, but I want to introduce you to their husbands, Marty and Anders,” Mat said, motioning toward them. “Anders is our captain, and Marty’s like my team dad.”

You giggled at that, glancing up at Mat fondly before focusing back on his teammates and extending your arm.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands.

“You, too,” Anders said. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Yeah, Barzy won’t shut up about you, and now we see what all the fuss is about,” Marty said, laughing at his own joke as Sydney poked him in the ribs playfully.

“What’s this about Barzy not shutting up?” you heard from behind the wall of well-dressed men in front of you, before an icy blue-eyed man stepped forward. Mat rolled his eyes.

“And this is Tito,” Mat said, waving his arm toward the man you knew to be his close friend. “Don’t let him fool you — he doesn’t ever shut up, either.”

Tito smirked at that and held out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden,” he said kindly. “You’ll have to come back — you must’ve been our good luck charm tonight.”

You shook your head shyly. “No, no, I can’t take the credit,” you insisted. “That was all you guys. But yes, it’s so nice to meet you, too, Tito.”

Tito smiled, looking between you and Mat, and before Tito could offer a response, Mat spoke into your ear.

“I got us a reservation at this place nearby,” he said, his low tone making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “I don’t wanna rush you, but we should probably get going. Besides, hopefully this is far from the last opportunity you’ll have to hear my friends chirp me.”

You smiled up at Mat, admiring the way his still-damp hair fell perfectly around his sculpted face, and nodded.

“Sure, let’s go,” you told him.

_____

“Okay, favoriiite... NFL team.”

“Seahawks," Mat answered. "Since Seattle’s not far from Coquitlam, you know?”

You nodded. “Plus Russell Wilson and Ciara are everything.”

“Everything,” he agreed dramatically, knocking his knuckles on the table for emphasis. “What about you?”

“Oh, Pats all the way,” you proclaimed, sitting back in your chair. “The day Brady signed with the Bucs was top five worst days of my life,” you added emphatically.

Mat clucked his tongue. “Awww, poor baby,” he said teasingly, throwing you a wink. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, okay, your turn. Next question,” you said, reaching across the table for his hand, tracing the veins there with your fingertips as Mat beamed at you, unable to think immediately of another inquiry as he was too distracted by your soothing touch.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright, uh,” he began. “How about... oh, what was your favorite movie as a kid?”

A faraway smile spread slowly across your lips as you looked just past Mat, recalling laying on the floor of your den back in Maine, Nick by your side as you watched the same VHS tape over and over again.

“You’ve probably never heard of it,” you started, shaking your head. “But, uh, it was called Brave Little Toaster.”

Mat stilled.

“Shut up,” he deadpanned.

Your brows pulled together, puzzled. “What?”

Mat chuckled in disbelief. “Brave Little Toaster was my favorite movie as a kid.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re lying,” you accused.

Mat put up his hands in innocence.

“Swear!” he insisted. “You can call my sister right now. We watched it every day for years.”

You could only grin stupidly. “Us, too,” you told him. “Sequels weren’t that good, though,” you added, taking a sip of your wine.

Mat nodded, looking pleased with that assessment, and thought not for the first time that night about how easy this all felt with you. How right. From the simplest thing to the most important.

“No, no, they were trash,” he laughed. “Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars, and, uh... shit, what was the other one… uh, Brave Little Toaster…”

“To The Rescue,” you finished, Mat echoing the last word before you both fell into a fit of giggles.

“I cannot believe we have this much in common, Maty,” you said when you finally caught your breath.

“Yeah, pretty crazy, right?” Mat said. You nodded as he reached for his gin and tonic. “Feels like I’ve met my other half,” he said.

You pressed your lips together in an attempt to hide your shy smile, dropping your gaze to your lap. From across the table, Mat squeezed your hand. Then, a voice piped up from behind you.

“I hate to interrupt…”

You turned in your seat to find the maître d' leaning toward you, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“We’re going to be closing, so I just wanted to ask—”

“Oh, god, did we close the place down?!” you asked apprehensively, glancing around the room to discover that, indeed, you and Mat were the last two in the room.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Mat said, flustered. “I didn't even realize. We’ll get out of your hair. I’m so sorry, sir. Really.”

The man shook his head in understanding and left the table as the waiter approached with the bill.

Suddenly, your stomach dropped. You couldn’t even fathom how much two steak dinners and drinks for the both of you would cost at a place like this. You felt guilty for agreeing to come here instead of suggesting something less extravagant, and you braced yourself as you waited for Mat to make some noise of disgust at the number on the check, just like you’d been used to at the end of date nights for so long.

But, it never came. Mat simply tucked a few bills into the fold, and looked back up at you with a smile and a contented sigh.

“You ready?” he asked easily.

You nodded. “I’m ready for anything with you.”

Mat jutted out his chin proudly and came around to pull out your chair. With his hand gently resting on the small of your back, he guided you to the valet station in front of the restaurant while you waited for his car to be brought around. All the while, Mat felt his heart thudding against his ribcage as he contemplated his next move.

Unaware of his internal struggle, you turned to him with a smirk as you awaited the car’s arrival, and you slipped your hands into his jacket pockets as you leaned into his chest.

“My hands are cold,” you explained simply, while Mat nodded, thinking that there was no better feeling than you reaching out for him. He only wanted to be near to you, ever, always, which brought him to finally posing his long anticipated inquiry.

“Hey, uh…” Mat began, clearing his throat nervously. “I was thinkin’, maybe you’d wanna come over to my place, like, maybe for the night? Honestly I just… I just wanna spend as much time with you as I can, especially since we’ve got another roadie coming up. And I’d love to just curl up on the couch with you, maybe watch a movie—“

“Yes,” you answered softly, but firmly. You had never been more certain that yes, you wanted to go home with this person. Right now.

Mat was caught off guard by your confident answer, and he smiled down at you in disbelief.

“You sure?” he asked. “There’s no pressure, Hayd. I know this is moving fast and all.”

You nodded. “It is,” you concurred. “But it feels… good. It feels right. And I wanna come home with you, Maty.”

Mat grinned from ear to ear and grasped your face with both his hands, kissing you deeply just as his car pulled up to the curb. He took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Let’s go then.”

_____

You did spend the night at Mat's that night, and the next night, and the one after that. But the one after that, Mat wasn’t around, and was instead in Raleigh for the first half of a two-game road trip. So, you were surprised when, while you were watching the game, you heard your doorbell ring. Frowning, you jogged to your door and hit the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, Miss Parker?”

“This is she.”

“Got a delivery for you. Says it’s from an ‘M. Barzal’?”

You smirked, tucking your chin to your chest.

“I’ll be right down.”

Seconds later, you were bounding down the stairs to meet the delivery person, who stood on your building’s front steps holding a stout bouquet of full, white peonies. You thanked them as you took the bouquet in your hands, staring down at it wistfully as you closed the door behind you. Not bothering to wait until you were back in your apartment to read the note, you pulled the card from the envelope tucked within the bouquet.

Hayd,

Pretty flowers for my pretty girl. Be home soon. Don’t forget about me.

_____

“Baby sis!”

You heard your brother’s booming voice on the other end of the line three days later, sounding a bit distant. By that and the sound of papers shuffling, you knew he had you on speaker at his office. “What’s up, Hayd?”

You smiled at his eternally effervescent tone.

“Hi, Nicky,” you greeted. “Oh, nothing much.” Lie. “Just wanted to give you a call and check in.”

“Aww, I’m flattered,” Nick replied. “But you know that I know you better than anybody else, right? I can tell by your voice that you’ve got something to say. What’s goin’ on? Lay it on me.”

You bit your bottom lip. Damn him. Even all the way from Boston, he could still read you like a book. You couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped you as you admitted, “Okay, okay. I wanted to tell you that I, uh... I met somebody.”

You could practically hear his eyebrows shoot up over the phone.

“Really?” Nick drawled, lengthening both syllables dramatically. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but still, you beamed.

“Really,” you confirmed. “Somebody you’d, uh... somebody you’d actually probably recognize.”

“What do you mean? You cop yourself an attorney or what?”

“No,” you responded, fussing with the frayed hem of your cropped sweater. “No, not quite—“

“What, a Yankee then?”

Your eyes widened at his surprisingly accurate interruption. He was more on the nose than he knew.

“Well... not a Yankee, but...”

“Shut up,” he cut you off once more. “A Met? A Jet?”

You bit at the skin around your polished plum fingernails before you spat out, “An Islander.”

Silence. Then, a bellow.

“What?!”

That was Nick. Ever the thespian.

“It’s Mat Barzal, Nicky,” you answered matter-of-factly. “Like something out of a goddamn rom-com, I met him in a coffee shop about a month ago, and we’re… we’re dating. He’s my boyfriend.” You uttered the last words of your statement with an astonished laugh. It still seemed too good to be true just in your own head — telling someone else made you sound certifiably crazy, even to your own ears.

“I- … how... Jesus! What?!” Nick sputtered. “Hayden! What the fuck! Well, ‘m happy for you, but I’m just… I think I’m in shock right now.”

You groaned with a pained chuckle.

“I know. I’ve been in shock this entire time,” you concurred. “But Mat, he’s… he’s amazing. It sounds so cliché, but he’s just such a normal guy. He’s super polite, funny, thoughtful—“

“Plus he’s an absolute man rocket,” Nick added enthusiastically.

You put a hand to your forehead, rolling your eyes once more.

“Spoken like a true former hockey player,” you commented.

Quickly moving on from your remark, Nick asked, “So, when do Annie and I get to meet him? Seen him on the ice for years but I gotta make sure he’s good enough for my baby sis.”

You smiled warmly at his often-used term of endearment and replied, “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the main reason I wanted to talk to you. He plays the B’s next weekend, on Sunday, at the Garden. The game’s at 1, I think, so… uh… he got us tickets — three tickets. He wants me and you and Annie to go to the game and then he wants us all to go out together—“

“Done,” your brother spoke up firmly before you could even finish. You beamed at his confirmation, despite the fact that he had interrupted you for what felt like the hundredth time in your three-minute call.

“Really?” you asked, scrunching your nose tentatively. “I know you guys are really busy, especially with wedding planning and stuff, and I’d totally understand—“

“Hayden, stop,” Nick spoke sternly. “Seriously. It’s no problem. Sundays are good for us. Besides, even if I did have plans, I’d cancel them for this. Meeting my sister’s new boyfriend is a big deal.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded, though he couldn’t see it.

“Well, thank you, Nicky. It means a lot. I’ll let Mat know you can make it. He’ll be so excited,” you told your brother happily.

“Awesome,” Nick replied warmly. “So what about Mom and Dad? They haven’t met the kid yet, have they?”

You snorted. “Nicky, you’re only two years older than him,” you pointed out. “You can’t call him a kid.”

“Sure I can!” he insisted. “He’s dating my kid sister — that makes him a kid to me.”

You sighed, amused.

“Whatever. But no, they have not met him yet,” you said. “That’ll happen soon enough, you know? I mean, you know how Dad can be — he can come off as kinda gruff, even though you and I know he’s a teddy bear. And Mom, she’s just gonna fall in love with him, and I’m not ready for that just yet.” You chuckled as you heard Nick offer a hum of understanding on the other end of the phone. “Besides, he has a lot of respect for you, and you guys have a lot in common. I just think it would be great for the two of you to meet first,” you said.

“What do you mean he has a lot of respect for me?” Nick asked, sounding puzzled.

One of your brows quirked of its own accord and a smirk stretched across your lips. You’d unwittingly skipped over the best part — the best part for Nick, anyway.

“Oh, I didn’t mention that?” you asked smugly. “He remembered you. The first day we met, I told him my brother played in the Q, he asked my last name… and immediately, he remembered you.”

You heard Nick suck in a breath. “You can’t tell me shit like this, sis,” he said. “Annie always says my ego is already too big as it is, and you just inflated it even more.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, amused by his declaration.

“Well, that’s facts,” you replied. “He remembered the injury, but most of all, he remembered how good you were. He was really glad to hear you’re doing well now.”

“Marry him, or I will,” Nick deadpanned. You could tell he was trying to use humor to mask any emotions your statement had stirred up.

“Oh, Annie would love to hear you say that,” you scoffed, then you glanced at the clock above you. “Listen, I gotta get to the Coli, but I’ll—“

“Oh, my god, my name is Hayden, and my boyfriend is an Islanderrr! I have to get to the Coli to watch him playyy!” your brother mimicked ruthlessly.

You growled at Nick’s playful mocking of you and spat, “Hey, you want these B’s-Isles tickets next weekend or not?”

Immediately, Nick shaped up.

“Just kidding, my darling baby sister! I’ll let you go, and I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Deal. I’ll call you once Mat and I go over the details and stuff,” you promised.

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to ya then. Hey — one more thing,” Nick said hurriedly.

“What’s that?” you inquired as you swung your handbag over your shoulder and grabbed your jacket from the hook in your entryway.

“Are you happy?” Nick asked, his voice more solemn than it had been throughout your entire conversation — more solemn than it almost ever was. Your lips stretched into a slow grin.

“Honestly, Nicky…” you began, a dreamy sigh leaving you as you paused pulling on your jacket. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m super happy.”

You could hear Nick smiling as he replied, “Good. I can tell. You deserve it, Hayd.”

“Thanks,” you answered softly. “It feels really good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nick retorted knowingly. You hummed in agreement and he added, “Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I love you, baby sis.”

“I love you, too, brother,” you replied. “Bye.”

You tapped the red button on your screen to end the call and slipped your jacket the rest of the way over your shoulders as you headed for the door. Just as you reached for the knob, your phone dinged with a text alert.

MB 😍: See you after the game, beautiful. Sushi and sleepover at my place tonight? Up to you. Just let me know 😘

You felt your cheeks warm as a smile stretched across your face, grinning like an idiot at your phone as you had every day for the last month — not that you cared. In fact, it was a welcome change from the sighs and eye rolls you used to emit when reading texts from your last significant other. You felt grateful for this new beginning, this flood of long-dormant feelings you didn’t know you’d ever feel again.

Your fingers flew easily across the keyboard as you typed your response: Sounds perfect. Count me in. Good luck, baby 💋

Within seconds, as you pulled the door closed and headed for the parking garage, his reply lit up your screen.

MB 😍: 🥰

Yeah, you couldn’t have said it better yourself.

_____

The next weekend after dinner, Nick stood with his arm wrapped around Annie’s shoulders, waving goodbye as he watched you and Mat turn and walk down the sidewalk in front of the restaurant hand in hand. Annie squeezed Nick’s waist as he sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked with a soft smile.

Nick shook his head.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Absolutely nothing is the matter. That kid is… I mean, he’s somethin’ else, huh?”

Annie chuckled thoughtfully.

“He really is,” she agreed. “I’ve known your sister since she was a kid, and I’ve never seen her so giddy as she was today with him.”

“Yeah, me either,” Nick said, his voice sounding far away. “I feel like… I dunno, I feel like this might be the real thing. I know it sounds crazy to say that already.”

Annie grinned, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s crazy,” she said. “I think they’re really in love.”

Nick breathed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Who woulda thought? My sister and an Islander. Shit.”

_____

“Don’t freak out,” Mat spoke, an anxious smirk on his face as his eyes glimmered.

“Maty!” you whined. “You’re scaring me. What the hell is it?” you asked, your eyes landing once more on the white box tied with a blue satin ribbon.

“Just open it,” Mat instructed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as you studied him cautiously.

You shook your head, wondering what on earth he was up to, but pulled the ribbon to loosen the bow nonetheless. You pulled the top of the box off and peeled away the tissue paper beneath to reveal a denim jacket, the name “BARZAL” and the number 13 embroidered in blue and orange on the back, along with an Isles logo, a blue heart, and plenty of gemstones.

You silently looked toward Mat, who gazed at you expectantly.

“It’s a WAG jacket,” he explained. “You’ve probably seen some of the girls wear them to games.”

You nodded slowly, unable to think of even a single-word response. You knew what it was. You just couldn’t believe it was yours.

You looked back down to the jacket, then finally back at Mat. He moved from his seat on the couch to sit beside you on the loveseat, taking your hand.

“Listen, I know it’s still really early on, but, I… it just felt like a no brainer to me, Hayd,” he said, his words rushed. “You totally don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to — there’s no pressure. But with the playoffs coming up, Syd asked me if I wanted to have one made for you, and I said I did. I didn’t know if I should clear it with you first, but I wanted to surprise you with it, so I—”

“You… you want me to wear this to games?” you interrupted, your brows furrowed.

Mat’s own face contorted with confusion.

“Y-yeah… yeah, of course I do, baby,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend. And I want people to know it.”

You tried to hide your unsureness under a tight smile as you ran your fingers along the decals adorning the jacket, trailing your touch down the seams. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to being someone that your significant other was proud of and wanted to show off to the world. Past that, you couldn’t believe that Mat had purchased this for you on his own, with no strings attached — just by looking at the custom item, you knew it had been far from cheap. Every day, Mat made you feel like the most special person in the world, and sometimes you weren’t sure why he bothered, or why he’d chosen you when he could have literally anyone else.

But instead of voicing what your insecurities and your past traumas were screaming at you, you simply decided to take Mat at his word — something you’d been working hard on since the start of this relationship. You flashed a million dollar smile and threw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Maty,” you whispered into his ear. You felt his arms tighten around you, his hands gently caressing your back. “This means so much to me.”

Mat smiled over your shoulder and kissed your temple.

“It means everything that you wanna wear it,” he told you, pulling back. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

You beamed and glanced back down at the garment.

“You want me to try it on?” you asked excitedly, like a little kid just home from a back-to-school shopping spree.

Mat nodded, smiling. “I would love for you to try it on,” he assured.

You wasted no time pulling the jacket from the box and lifting it up. You put one arm into the first sleeve, and Mat guided the other arm after it. Upon closer inspection, you could see your own name embroidered into the wrist of the left sleeve, along with a date in matching script on the other sleeve.

“What’s this?” you asked, smoothing your finger along the thread as you held out your arm to Mat.

The corners of his lips ticked upward into a smile. “The day we met,” he said simply.

You met his eyes and immediately leaned in, grasping his face in one hand as you kissed him, overwhelmed by his constant thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” you repeated, and Mat only nodded. He took your hands and squeezed.

“Stand up, show me,” he insisted.

You giggled and obliged, doing a little spin with your arms outstretched as Mat laughed.

“Wow, baby, it looks great on you,” he said, in awe. “I absolutely love it. Do you like it?”

You nodded, biting at your bottom lip.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smoothing your hands along the fabric. “I’m definitely wearing it to the next game.”

Mathew nodded, pleased to hear your declaration, and crooked his finger, inviting you closer. You stepped forward, rested your knees on the couch on either side of his lap, and looped your arms around his neck. Mathew began to peck at your lips, jaw, and neck playfully.

“You look,” kiss, “so good,” kiss, “with my name,” kiss, “on your back,” kiss, followed by a mischievous squeeze to your butt.

You felt heat rise from your chest, up your neck, to your face, and you leaned back to rid yourself of the jacket and carefully toss it onto the back of the couch, causing Mat to pout his lips.

You shook your head, placing your index finger to his pucker.

“For what I have planned to say thank you, I’m not gonna wanna be wearing anything nice,” you told him, removing your finger to kiss his lips.

Mat raised his eyebrows and hummed his approval.

“How about not wearing anything at all?” he asked, cockiness in his tone as he tugged at your t-shirt. Following his cues, you removed it from your body and tossed it onto the floor.

“Whatever you say, Barzal,” you said, though Mat was too focused on your lacy bra to think of a response.

Instead, he hoisted you over his shoulder as you squealed with laughter, hauling you to the bedroom and leaving the denim jacket to be worn another day.

#happy birthday ker #mathew barzal #mat barzal #m.barzal #m. barzal #my writing #mathew barzal writing #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal writing #mat barzal fanfiction #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction #new york islanders #islanders #barzal

117 notes · View notes

hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Text

The Best Quiche in Tokyo

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Warnings: explicit sexuality (it literally takes place at an orgy so like.......Y’know)

Characters: Hatter (Takeru), Aguni, and Female Reader (You)

Summary: When one of your customers invites you to a potluck-slash-orgy, you assume the “orgy” part is a joke—because nobody really hosts a potluck and an orgy at the same time, right?

Notes: One time, @nessinborderland (happy belated birthday btw) gave me the brilliant idea of Hatter hosting an orgy and serving really good food and I just......ran with it. This ended up being part comedy, part character study—and mostly features Aguni, if you can believe it! I don’t know, I just let the story take me where it wanted to go! (Also, this is definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, so get ready to dig in!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon in March, and you’re standing in front of a hat shop. Well, technically, you’re slightly to the left of a hat shop, peering down a skinny alleyway in search of a door or a set of stairs—something to indicate that there is, in fact, an apartment up there and this is not just an elaborate prank.

There is a very good chance this is a prank—after all, the eccentric man who walked into your stationary store two weeks ago seemed...off. Not in a bad way, just. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Entirely himself, in a way that people usually aren’t.

Was he flirting or was he just overly friendly when he leaned in just a bit too close to see the various fonts available for his choosing? It’s difficult to say. He did seem genuinely interested to know the difference between serif and sans serif, which doesn’t much thrill your customers on the regular. Does asking for an extra business card ‘for his personal records’ count as a pick-up line? It’s hard to say. Not that it matters much, of course—you are a professional, he is a customer, and there’s nothing more to it.

And you really are a professional, because when he told you that he wanted—in metallic gold, 30-point, center aligned—to say, quote, “The Third Annual Springtime Potluck and Orgy: Presented by Danma Takeru,” you didn’t so much as bat an eye. Partially because he was very insistent that you spell his name correctly, and partially because. Well. How does a person respond to that?

In truth, he ended up being one of your better customers—he showed a genuine interest in the process while still deferring to your expertise—and when one of the printed invitations arrived in your mailbox, you figured you might as well go see what the fuss is about. It could be an opportunity to meet some new friends, maybe drum up a little business if you’re lucky.

And besides—a potluck-slash-orgy? Who would even do that?

The merry little jingle of bell catches your attention, and you turn your head to see a solemn-looking man peeking his head around the hat shop’s glass door. He looks at you. He looks at the plastic-wrapped pie in your hands. He looks back at you.

He frowns.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your most charming smile in the hopes that he’ll stop looking at you like you just slapped him across the face, “I’m, uh, I’m here for the party!”

You shuffle over to him, careful not to scuff the white of your sensible-yet-pretty patent leather heels on the sidewalk. Maybe you’re dressed too formally—he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans while you’re sporting a calf-length chiffon dress dyed in a lovely array of watercolor blues and violets.

Oh dear, what a faux-pas! There was no dress code listed on the invite, but maybe you should’ve dressed in a more casual fashion. You don’t live far, you could probably run home quickly and change...

“Do you...have an invitation,” the man asks, crossing his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. Is he annoyed? No, no. He seems. Confused? Wary? How very strange.

“Oh, of course,” you answer, reaching a fumbling hand into your purse to search for the little pink envelope, “I almost forgot it walking out the door, but I remembered at the last second! I can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but leans forward to inspect the invitation once you manage to produce it from the cluttered mess that is your handbag.

“I know the time said it started at three, but the pie took a little longer than expected. It takes time for the chocolate to set, and—“ you gasp, covering your mouth with your invite-laden hand, “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I’m so sorry, Mister...?”

“Call me Aguni,” he says, and his eyes narrow slightly when you give him your most chipper ‘thank you’ and apologize for not being able to shake his hand at the moment. What a strange man.

“You,” he asks slowly, “you read the invitation, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who made them,” you explain, puffing your chest up with pride, “and our host was kind enough to send one to me! He must have really liked my work!”

“...Yeah,” the man called Aguni says, “I’m sure that’s it.”

But, to your pleasure, he steps aside and holds the door open for you to enter. Such a strange man, but at least he’s gentlemanly enough to hold the door for you as you step inside.

“Oh, wow,” you say, “this place is amazing!”

And maybe it sounds silly, but you’re being entirely honest. There are hats in shelves, hats hanging on the wall, hats on faceless plastic heads on the counter and placed atop a long wooden table to the left—all of them in different shapes and colors, embellished and feathered and ribboned to the nines. There’s a certain magic to a little place like this, a kind of whimsical charm you want to bottle and keep on the kitchen windowsill.

“Walls could use some paint. Floor needs polished, too,” Aguni says, “but...yeah, I guess it’s nice enough.”

You follow him as he leads you towards the back, your eyes drinking in all the details of this fascinating little shop.

“No, no, the walls and the floor are perfect,” you assert with a wide-mouthed smile, “it gives it character. Makes it feel...like home, I think.”

“Takeru says the same thing,” Aguni answers with a chuckle, “although I also think he just doesn’t want to put in the work. He’s...not very handy.”

There is a second door at the very back of the shop, and once again, Aguni holds it open for you. Perhaps his original air of discontent was a simple case of shyness—maybe he just takes a bit to warm up to people. Well, just wait until he tries your homemade triple-chocolate silk pie; you’ll be best friends in no time!

He leads you into a tiny courtyard, which is just barely big enough to hold a steep set of metal stairs and a handful of plant pots, which remain empty due to the early spring cold. But, oh, it must be so lovely back here when the plants are in full bloom! You say as much to your companion, who actually manages to smile a bit in your direction as he leads you up the stairs.

“Those are mine, actually,” he tells you, his boot-covered feet thunking up the stairs at a leisurely pace, “He lets me garden back here.”

You picture it—this tall, stoic man, kneeling on the ground, his gloved hands tending little green sprouts as the morning sun shines gold and warm on the cold stone ground. The thought of it warms you. Does he know anything about succulents? You’ve always thought they would look so cute in the shop...

“Look,” Aguni says when the two of you reach a very drab-looking door, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but...you sure you’re ready for this?”

What an odd thing to say! Maybe you’re acting more nervous than you originally thought? It is rather daunting, walking into a party of strangers; but, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You’re sweet for worrying about me,” you respond, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but if everyone is half as lovely as you, I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I will probably stick with you for a while—if that’s okay, of course!”

“Alright, then.” Aguni says—and is that a hint of a blush you see creeping up his neck? All this time, you thought he was just being strange, but he’s just a little shy! You give his arm a knowing pat before withdrawing your touch, and he quickly turns around to unlock the door.

Are all of Takeru’s friends this adorable? You hope so. You follow your bashful escort inside—the genkan is already full of shoes, but you manage to squeeze yours in between a pair of snakeskin wedge heels and the wall. Aguni also removes his boots, and you’re happy he isn’t going to stay down in the hat shop the whole time. He can introduce you to everyone, and maybe—

You hear something. Was that...? No, no, you must be imagining things. You definitely did not just hear a woman moan on the other side of the wall. You stop and angle your head towards the door slightly to get a better listen. It’s all rather muffled (it must be well-insulated!) but there’s definitely some kind of music playing. Maybe it’s part of a song?

It happens again. This time, it’s deeper, and more of a prolonged “ah” sound. And then laughter. Aguni is looking at you in that concerned way of his again.

Instead of waiting for him to open the door for you a third time, you decide to take initiative and open it yourself—a show of confidence, to put his mind at ease. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try and stop you, but he instead just crosses his arms and watches as you open the door to the rest of the house.

The first thing you see is candles. Little flickering spots of yellow-orange flame, winking inside clear glass votives. A trio of them on the kitchen table to the left, surrounded by a mismatched variety of trays and plates and bowls, each holding a different delicacy.

There’s a candle on the kitchen counter, next to the refrigerator. One on a bookshelf, which is filled to bowing with vinyl LP’s. Two on either side of the television, and a cluster of them on a coffee table next to a fishbowl of shiny gold squares and—

Oh.

Oh, dear.

There are limbs. Moving, writing, reaching. Hands grabbing. Mouths kissing. Mouths...doing things other than kissing. Oh, God, there’s boobs. And somebody’s butt. Aw, geez, there goes another one. How many naked people are there in here, anyways?

“Oh, hey!”

A familiar voice calls out from the fleshy throng, and your stomach drops. Like Venus emerging from the surf, you see Danma Takeru rise up from the crowd, hair mussed and smiling mouth smudged with at least two different colors of lipstick. While he does appear to be wearing some kind of brightly-patterned robe, the more he stands, the less confident you are that it’s actually covering anything.

You spin on your heel, unwilling as of the moment to become visually acquainted with your host’s penis, and you’re met once more with Aguni’s concerned stare. This time, though, you understand why he’s looking at you like that, and it makes the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck that much hotter.

“Do you want to leave?”

This is. Oh, boy. This is a lot. Aguni must be able to sense your discomfort, although you imagine it’s rather palpable at the moment.

“I,” you say, “I don’t...know.”

And you say you don’t know because you truly don’t know what to do. Was it really so naïve of you to think that the ‘orgy’ part of the invitation was some kind of weird inside joke? Is there some kind of social protocol for these things?

You feel two hands descend upon each of your shoulders, and you try to convince yourself that they are slightly damp with sweat as opposed to any other kind of aqueous material.

“You made it,” Takeru exclaims with genuine excitement as he gives your person a gentle shake, “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“He’s covered, don’t worry,” Aguni says to you before directing his attention over your shoulder, “I take it you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

The hand on your right shoulder stays while the left slips away, leaving room for Takeru to stand at your side and squeeze you against him in a weird little half-hug. In another situation, you might enjoy the way the silk of his robe whispers against the skin of your arms, perhaps smile at the warm comfort of a lazy arm thrown about your shoulders like a heavy scarf, but. Well. Right now, it’s just a little...awkward.

Aguni rolls his eyes.

“About that,” he says, gesturing impatiently at the debauchery behind your back, “I mean, just look at her face.”

“Mori-chan, how could you be so rude to our lovely guest? Darling,” Takeru says, turning your face towards him with two fingers under your chin, “don’t listen to him, you’re...ah, I see what you mean.”

Is your expression really that bad? It must be, because Takeru very slowly and very carefully withdrawing his arm from around your shoulder and taking a generous step to the side. His mouth is twisted into a rather comical gaping frown, his eyes nervously darting side-to-side.

“In my defense,” he says, putting his hands up like some kind of fucked-out traffic cop at a four-way intersection, “the, uh, the orgy part was very prominent. Big letters, right at the top.”

“I,” you reply, “I thought it was...a joke?”

“This is why we don’t just hand out invitations,” Aguni grits through his teeth, “for fuck’s sake, Takeru, we’ve talked about this!”

“I know, I know. I am humble enough to admit when I’ve fucked up, and this time, I have fucked up in a truly spectacular fashion,” Takeru’s gaze shifts from horrified to quizzical as he scrutinized you for a moment, “Unless...you’d like to stay?”

You look at the pie. The slowly-warming chocolate is beginning to sweat beneath the thin film of plastic wrap you so lovingly secured with lilac ribbon.

“Or you could slap him on the way out,” Aguni offers, “he’s very slap-able.”

“It’s true! And when you slap me,” he whips his head to the side suddenly, “my hair does that and it looks really cool!”

Yeah, okay—it did look pretty cool. But, does he deserve to be slapped? Probably for something else, but not for this. It’s a simple misunderstanding, and honest mistake on both your parts.

“I want...” you start, and the way they’re looking at you, wide-eyed and breath-bated, reminds you of the final rose ceremony on The Bachelorette.

It’s kind of hilarious, actually.

“I, uh,” you continue, “I want to...to put this in the refrigerator, if that’s okay? It’s, uh, starting to melt...”

To say that Takeru’s face lights up is an understatement. With a mega-watt smile and a sparkle in his eye, he swoops his arm back around your shoulder and begins leading you towards the kitchen.

Although you have (almost) gotten used to the sea of strangers fucking and moaning in the background, you still choose to politely avert your gaze as you pass them by. You instead focus on Takeru, who has taken this opportunity to explain the inner-workings of...whatever this is.

“...And I personally see to it that these events remain exclusive,” he says, “Although I do occasionally invite outsiders, such as yourself. You were just so sweet and helpful, I couldn’t resist trying my luck and sending you an invite.”

“Thank you,” you say, “although, I, uh...”

He opens the refrigerator door and motions for you to place the pie inside. Luckily, it’s mostly empty, save for a collection of bottled water and a tin of what looks to be cat food. You’re grateful to not have to carry it around anymore, and thank him for his assistance.

It’s finally time for you to acknowledge the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’—except, you’re not exactly sure how to begin.

“I,” you start, stopping to bite your lip, “I, uh. Is it okay if I...don’t, y’know, do the whole...uh...sex thing?”

“Oh, do you prefer to watch?”

“No! I mean, no, uh,” you laugh nervously, “I’m just...”

Takeru chuckles.

“I’m only teasing. You’re more than welcome to skip the sex and go straight to the food. As long as you’re on the kitchen side, nobody will touch you. It’s one of our rules.”

He motions for Aguni to come over with a wave of his arm, smiling when the tall man comes to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Mori-chan also prefers to abstain from the more salacious aspects of our little gathering, so the two of you can keep each other company.”

“I’m usually in charge of the food,” Aguni adds, “and I try to make sure the candles stay lit.”

“I, uh, I noticed those on the way in. They’re nice.”

Takeru leans towards you as if he’s about to share a secret.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” he says in a low tone, “but there is a certain stench that comes with these events. Sweat, musk, various secretions...it all really adds up in the end.”

“It’s awful,” Aguni concludes, “but candles help dissipate the worst of it.”

“Oh, and the ambiance,” Takeru exclaims, “there’s just nothing like candlelight to really get people in the mood for—“

A sharp ding! makes you jump. From what you can gather, it came from the small oven to Aguni’s left.

“Hold it right there,” Takeru growls towards Aguni, who had been in the middle of donning a pair of floral-printed oven mitts, “she needs thirty more seconds.”

Aguni looks at you and rolls his eyes. You stifle a giggle behind your hand, hoping your host doesn’t notice.

“I saw that,” Takeru snips towards Aguni, “honestly, Mori-chan, you get one new friend...”

And even though he’s mid-scold, there remains a joviality to Takeru’s tone—a testament, you believe, to what can only be a long-standing friendship between him and Aguni. It’s hard not to feel jealous of their easy back-and-forth, their banter like a well-matched game of tennis.

“Now you can take her out,” Takeru says, “but, so help me God, if you don’t let her rest for seven minutes–“

“–They’ll never find my body, I know, I know,” Aguni finishes, gingerly placing a metal pan on the stove, “Look, we’ve got it handled. You can go back to your side of the party and I’ll call you when it’s plated.”

“Fine,” Takeru answers with a false pout, “but only because I know she’ll keep you honest.”

And just like that, it’s just you and Aguni once more—but, this time, he seems much more at ease to have you around. Happy, almost. It must be kind of boring, sitting alone in a kitchen while everyone else is...well, busy.

“So,” you say, moving to Aguni’s side to peer into the baking pan, “looks kind of like...a quiche?”

“Not just any quiche,” Aguni answers, opening the drawer to his right and digging a hand inside, “the best quiche in Tokyo.”

He pulls out a shiny silver chef’s knife and places it on the counter. Next comes a pair of dainty forks, delicate little things one might use for tea cakes at a French-inspired bistro. Knowing what you know about Takeru—which, granted, isn’t very much at all—it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“You’re in front of the plates,” he says, tapping the cabinet directly in front of your face, “grab us some?”

“But we’re supposed to wait seven minutes,” you protest, all while following his instructions, “it’s only been...like, three.”

Aguni’s eyes take on a glint of mischief.

“Only a problem if we get caught.”

Honestly, it looks divine. Pillowy-soft and the perfect pale-yellow hue, delicate tendrils of steam billowing out as he drags the knife through. You hadn’t ever seen a non-rectangular quiche before, but you suppose it makes sense; there are a fair few people in attendance, and the standard circular composition wouldn’t quite feed everyone.

He serves you first. A corner piece (which he insists are the best), speckled with herbs and studded with little pieces of what you assume to be some kind of ham. Little strings of cheese stick to the blade of the knife, and Aguni scrapes them off with the side of a fork, which he then hands to you.

“Takeru doesn’t cook much,” Aguni explains, playing his own small square, “but when he does...”

The sound that comes from your mouth as you take your first bite of quiche could rival any of those happening in the orgy across the room. Oh, that is so good! Buttery crust, the salt of cheese and ham, the subtle bite of onion—and there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place, but you know it tastes absolutely heavenly. Immediately, you take another bite.

“Grew the herbs de Provence myself,” Aguni mentions, “He refuses to use store-bought.”

“Makes all the difference,” you respond, “I could eat the whole pan by myself.”

“I did that for my last birthday, actually,” Aguni chuckles around a forkful of quiche, “Takeru insisted on putting all thirty-eight candles in before carrying it to the table—you know, like a dumbass. Part of his hair caught fire, and I had to give him a haircut at two in the morning because he was so distraught.”

The two of you laugh—Aguni at the memory, and you at the idea of a tearful Takeru sulking as Aguni snipping the fried locks with a pair of kitchen shears.

“He forgave me, even though I took a whole two inches off,” Aguni sets his empty plate in the sink and looks out of the small window above it, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Doesn’t always make the best choices, sure, but he’s got a good heart in him.”

There is a sadness here, something in Aguni that speaks to a troubled past you haven’t quite unearthed yet—and you know better than to press him, especially here, especially now.

“Well, I can’t say I’m an expert,” you say, handing him your plate, “but you two seem like decent people. Orgies aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Aguni nods, “though I don’t suppose you’ll come to the next one, will you?”

For the first time since your arrival, you allow yourself to watch the festivities happening across the room. It isn’t that bad, you suppose—it’s just a group of people having a fun time together, laughing and gasping and enjoying each others’ bodies in a safe and comfortable place. It’s not something you necessarily want to do yourself, but...well, the ‘weird’ factor of the whole thing has gone down exponentially over the past hour or so.

“And miss out on the best quiche in Tokyo,” you say, nudging against Aguni’s arm with your shoulder, “not a chance!”

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #alice in borderland netflix #spicy boy #morizono aguni #writings and such #THIS TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE OH MY GOD #alice in borderland fanfic #obvi this takes place before borderland #so I guess this is an au?#also I hinted at Ziggy the cat because I am self-indulgent and evil #can’t believe I actually wrote it lads

48 notes · View notes

notmrskennedy · 4 years

Text

Eight Seconds

Howdy! I’m honestly freaking out bc this the first Spencer Reid anything I’ve written and bc I try not to out myself as country too much bc well the world right now. (I honestly wish there was more people out there who had a thing for cowgirls/boys as I do.) I hope at least one person enjoys it as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: Spencer Reid meets the cowgirl of his dreams...

Warnings: I think I swear like twice? other than that it’s fluff

Word count: 4.5k

----------

He doesn’t think that it would be Penelope Garcia to catch him. Sure, she’s a genius and a tech wizard and an overall queen at gathering gossip. But she isn’t around him as much as JJ. Or Emily. Or Morgan.

What gave him away to her and not everyone else?

Because he knows he’s given something away when she texts him. Urgent. Batcave now! He’s hopeful. Optimistic. Maybe Penelope’s got some burning question about Star Trek. Or Doctor Who. Or when the next convention is. Maybe it’s a serial killer.

But he isn’t that lucky. Spencer Reid never is.

He knocks hesitantly, worried for exactly what’s to come. Her gaze snaps up from her tablet. Snaps to him in an incessant kind of ‘I know what you did’ way. It’s a look for scolding children. Not a pleasant, let’s have a tea time chat, gaze.

Spencer settles into the extra chair and waits. There’s a storm brewing behind her eyes and when she finally speaks, she doesn’t disappoint.

“What’s her name?”

And he can’t stop it. Lovesick smile, starry eyes—Penelope doesn’t have to be a profiler to see it before he sobers up. Her mouth opens into a toothy grin. An insufferably contagious grin and he knows he’s caught for sure.

He leans back in the desk chair, stares up at the ceiling and breathily whispers, “Shawn.”

“Oh!” Penelope gasps. He can hear the mental scolding. There’s backtracking with no end in sight. “Well, I didn’t mean to presume and it’s—it’s okay if Shawn is—or you’re—and I just didn’t know—you never said anything—“

“Relax,” he chuckles and grins at her softly for good measure. “Shawn is a girl. Her legal name is Shawna if you’re that curious.”

And he knows Penelope is curious. She’s grinning and waiting and listening. He can tell she wants to prompt. To ask questions. To dig through every tiny detail she can. Is it bad to make her wait? To not want anyone to know about the girlfriend he’s kept hidden for so long?

“Tell me more,” Penelope buzzes, bouncing in her seat, monitors—work—forgotten. “Where did you love story begin?”

He smiles to himself. It’s not a matter of when, but how long.

It took eight seconds. All of eight seconds.

At first, he wasn’t even sure it was eight seconds. He’d been running, running harder than he ever had. Chucks flapping against the hard packed dirt. Horse trailers flying by him as he jumped hitches and slipped through patches of mud.

It was five minutes of burning lungs and dust caked nostrils before those eight seconds. Quick glances between trailers. Got to keep moving, Reid, got to keep up. Because Morgan’s chanting was getting distant, too distant. The last time they’d split up—

Five minutes of a maze he hadn’t learned. Five minutes of being utterly lost, following the sound of Morgan’s thundering boots and desperation. They were all desperate. It was a desperate move to keep running, not to find solace in an empty horse trailer on the killer’s part. The bastard thought he could lose them, shake the FBI agents off his tail.

Reid knew better, but he was getting desperate too. His lungs were burning. It’d only been five minutes.

“FBI! Stop!” Morgan shouted from behind him. Reid skidded through a patch of horse shit into the main thoroughfare. Thank god. No more trailers. A walkway, a solid walkway, a clear line of sight. The man was running. Why do they always run?

Reid picks up his lungs in his desperate hands and pushes on. Grits his teeth, clenches down on every spare inch of fortitude left. Morgan catches up easily but doesn’t surpass. They’re both tired. They’re both panting. They’ve both got weapons drawn, but who could make a shot at 50 yards with a moving target?

Not Reid. He knew better.

But Morgan tried one more time. Shouted and called and screamed. The man didn’t look back. Prison was on his heels and he was desperate enough to keep running. A coward. There wouldn’t be a standoff. Smart enough to not get cornered, not smart enough to keep from getting caught.

They both pushed harder. This was their eight seconds. They were getting close, they reasoned to themselves, hearts panting to the same rhythm. They could keep it together for these last seconds. He’d get tired—they were getting tired—he had to be tired by now.

He was racing in snakeskin cowboy boots. How could he be keeping that pace in those shoes?

Reid hoped his lungs would give out. Save the heroic work for Morgan. Morgan could get the bad guy. Morgan could get the girl. He could have anything he wanted. Reid just wanted to fall face first into the dirt and let the fresh mud extinguish the flames in his lungs. In his throat. In his mouth.

But then the eight seconds came.

In the first second, he realised his heart didn’t gallop. It didn’t have the imprints of hooves. It wasn’t the two thousand pound animal gaining momentum behind him. His heart was clogging his ears that badly. Thankfully, with his wits about him, he looked back.

In the second second, Reid saw the animal. Mid-step, perfect stride. A plastic figurine of a race horse, nostrils wide at the end of its long face. It took only the second second to see the crazy in the horse’s eyes. How they focused and blinked and bled the insanity. How it was more beast than domesticated pet. Reid was convinced the black stockings on its legs were dripping grease from its gears. He could see the muscle in its shoulders and flanks. Muscle groupings bigger than him. An animal that could crush him. A machine running with a single thought: faster.

He saw the rider in the third second. One he didn’t expect. Maybe it was his own memories of cowboy movies, but cowboys weren’t supposed to be dipped in glitter. Weren’t supposed to be such overtly female. But there she was. Her dark curls billowing behind her. Sun glinting off the gold of her hat. Glinting off the impressive amount of glitter on her eyelids. And the rhinestones on her black button-down. She was stunning. Furrowed in her concentration. Elated in her grin.

The rope came in the fourth. It was twisting in her hand, coil and reins held precariously in her other. It loops over her head, slack enough to swallow her whole. Slack enough to get caught on her. Get caught on the horse. She keeps perfect control and the hand comes around and around until she—

In the fifth second, the rope releases and Reid slows his feet to watch it. The horse has gained on the man, so close that teeth could get involved. The man doesn’t seem to know, or is too desperate to change direction. Because he’s gone straight and the horse has followed and the rope is sliding through her hand like it’s meant to be there forever. It goes and goes and goes. He thinks the loop is bound to catch her foot, a hoof, something. But it doesn’t. It never does.

With six seconds down, the man finds he doesn’t have feet anymore. The loop of the rope tightens around his legs and he’s falling. He doesn’t have feet under him. Barely hands to save his face. Reid hopes the fall is harder than it needs to be. But he’s not focused on the man, he’s focused on the girl. The girl who expertly catches the rope in her hands. Who expertly ties the end around the saddle horn. Who’s horse pulls the rope taut and the man goes down.

At seven seconds, the horse is still backing. It knows. It’s practiced. Reid can see the elation on both rider and animal. Their pride is palpable. He doesn’t know it, but this is the best run they’ve done together. Not the fastest, but the best.

Eight seconds is when the girl turns to them. Grinning, hollering, hands up in the air. Reid watches as they catch up, slowing down to match the horse’s speed. The man tries to flip himself over, dragging on his back towards the federal agents. Reid can feel his heart and he wonders if it’s beating harder from the run or the thrill.

He’ll never admit it but he’s always wanted to be a cowboy. This girl has his other dream in her hands, wearing it as her favourite belt buckle.

Eight seconds later and she’s smiling down at the agents, still hollering some form of yeehaw! Reid grins, dragging his aching limbs forward to help Morgan flip the man onto his stomach and cuff him. The dragging discontinues and the horse knickers his anger that the trial is over.

Reid loosens the rope from the man’s feet, working the fray between his fingers. He moves to hand it to the cowgirl but she’s already snapping it from him and coiling it back up. She latches it back to her saddle, chest heaving with the excitement of it all.

“Bitch!” the man spits as Morgan hauls him to his feet.

The girl just smirks and tips her hat back. Reid can’t help but watch her pretty red lips as she says, “I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass, you’ll taste my good leather if you don’t shut your goddamn mouth.” Vulgarity has never sounded better off of anyone else’s tongue. She’s got the first sermon he’s ever wanted to listen to sitting on her lips and he wonders if this is why people believe in God. If pretty girls have always made men believe in things they shouldn’t.

Her drawl is thick, sticky, and unsweet. She’s got more threats bubbling up in her chest, sitting precariously close to her heart. She comfortable in sliding off her horse, landing softly in the dirt.

He won’t admit it, but he can’t ignore how round her ass is in those tight jeans.

She pats her horse, sliding her rough hands under its harnesses and it’s mane. Reid knows enough about horses to distinguish several muscle groups and bone structures from others. He feels out of his depth. He’s drowning being so close to a dream he can never have. He wonders if he should ask her to stay. Tell her there’s reports. Witness statements. Paperwork. Anything to get her to stay longer, to prolong the closeness to the dream. The closeness to her.

The horse gives a bleated scream as Morgan passes with the handcuffed man, both human males looking equally frightened of the animal. It settles into a role of domestication as the girl lets the horse throw its head into her shoulder begging for pats.

Spencer knows he supposed to follow Morgan, but he can’t move. She’s everything in that moment. And just as he gets the courage to thank her, thank her for stopping the burning, she meets his eyes and drops her jaw.

“Well as I live and breathe!” she shouts. It’s too rough for a squeal, more of a whistle of her words. “Spencer Reid, not even a day’s difference. How in the hell are you?”

Is he breathing? He doesn’t think he’s breathing. She knows him. She knows him. She knows him. And he has no idea who she is. He searches her beautiful face. Running over the ruby lips. Over the pink blushing cheeks. The glittered eyelids and the long eyelashes.

She’s so unfamiliar it hurts.

Morgan stops in his tracks. There’s blood in the water for the first time in ages. The last time these waters were chummed was a bartender who called him exactly once.

And it gets worse. Her face falls. Emily and JJ are rounding the corner. Everything in him sinks to the floor. Every details about himself becomes apparent. He’s gangly and uncoordinated. His hair’s too long and he’s got circles under his eyes darker than the grease stains on her horse. He’s so unperfected and this girl reminds him of the girls in high school he could never have.

He wonders for a moment if she’s from high school. She can’t be though, he thinks as he fights the bile in his throat. She’s younger than me.

“You know boy genius?” Morgan asks, handing the killer off to Emily. He’s strutting. Ever the first impressionist. The girl barely glances at him, still studying Reid with a crestfallen little smile perched on her perfect lips.

“Not really,” she settles on, getting a better grip on the reins she’s holding. Getting a better grip on herself. “We met once. In Vegas. I was 15 and I’ve done my growing up since.”

Reid still hasn’t moved. He’s not sure he can. His feet are putty from the run. Putty from her smile. Just ask for her name, he screams at himself, but he can’t. There’s no guarantees. There’s no ‘of courses’, only ‘what ifs’. The what ifs can consume you and he’s worried he’s going to let them.

Morgan extends his hand in the stretching pause. And she shakes it. All crimson lips and pearly teeth. “I’m Agent Derek Morgan. You obviously know, Dr. Reid.”

Her eyebrows raise for half a second. She’s surprised. And impressed. And Reid’s heart warms for no longer than she answers. “I’m Shawn, Shawn Healy.”

“Shawn? That’s an interesting—“

Everyone pauses at the sound of hoofbeats. Whips around to see another girl, a blonde in even more glitter, ride up on her own horse. Shawn swings back onto her horse and spurs him off, following the other girl. Spencer doesn’t see the flags they’re carrying until it’s too late. Until she’s already apologising for leaving. She’s late.

Spencer wonders if he’ll ever see her again. Black curls bouncing over her shoulders. Stained lips. Sun glinting off every inch of her.

In another eight seconds, she’s gone. Eight seconds to win his heart. Eight seconds to ride off with it.

He gives Penelope some condensed version of the story that she’s hooked on anyway. She’s leaned forward, elbows on knees, perched on every word that leaves his mouth like it’s from God himself. It’s comical, he thinks. Spencer’s never really been invested in anyone else’s drama, not for longer than five minutes.

Penelope’s going to be invested, heels sunk in, holding on for dear life. She’s invested for life.

“So, how’d you get her back?” she asks. Starry eyed. Concerned. This is her white whale and she’ll go down with this ship. “She could’ve been anywhere! How’d you two get together?”

And he knows this part isn’t complicated. And it’ll be enough to tide her over.

The quick answer is that he googled her. Read every newspaper article, column, and paper mentioning her. Shawna Healy had been mentioned more times for winning rodeo competitions than he had papers published. She was accomplished in her culture, in her part of the world. She’d won up to regionals while in college. Even boasted to being the first girl on the UT Dallas Rodeo Team. Currently employed at Montgomery’s Cattle Ranch just outside of DC. The same ranch who was hosting a For-Charity Bull-riding Competition.

Spencer hadn’t known what to do with the information so he sat on it. For a month. Until he couldn’t wait any longer. The competition was that weekend. He had to go.

He just kept repeating to himself, this is for academic purposes. This isn’t stalking. You might not even see her. This is for—

And he stops thinking. There’s no reason to think anything other than: I’m sorely underdressed. He’s sinking to the bottom of the deep end of the pool, lead weights tied to his ankles. Every man, woman, and child here is nothing sort of their earned Country label. There’s boots and buckles and ball caps. There’s dust and dip and drawl.

And he’s in a cardigan. Why was that a good idea? He doesn’t know, but he’s tempted to shrug it off and disappear. To run right back out of gates. To get swallowed by everyone staring at him. Gawking at him. He’s back in high school again and he wants to drink bleach.

He’s almost to the bleachers, past the makeshift bar, just at the corner of the dirt arena. Spencer knows he should just go home, shake it off, and dissolve into wishing the world takes pity on him. He’s too out of his depth. These other people belong. He most definitely does not.

And just as he’s about to turn tail, pussyfoot out of every bit of confidence he’s ever had, when he sees her.

She’s on a different horse. One not quite as beastly as the other. This one’s mellow, waiting on the edge of the arena, while she’s chatting absently with another man on horseback. She looks different. She’s far, but there’s no glitter. No outstanding colours. No glinting under the fluorescents. She’s in a cowboy hat, tipped forward over her loose braids. She’s traded her button down for a flannel, rolled up to the elbows and he finally understands why Penelope said it was such a turn on.

There’s no words as the announcer suddenly comes on and a bull bursts from the chute. It’s one of the most terrifying things he’s ever seen. A tiny man holding onto a two ton absolute beast with one hand—it’s absurd! But he can’t stop watching. Can’t stop being impressed. Waits on bated breath for the man to get bucked off after his nearly eight second run.

He does and Spencer has had falls like that. They aren’t pleasant.

The bull bucks and kicks for another few seconds. Shawn and her friend lazily canter forward, guiding the animal back to the other side of the arena and through a gate. She whistles and the gate closes behind it.

The pair retreat back to their corner and the process starts all over again.

“You look a little lost, honey,” a sweet voice chirps beside him. He startles, head caught up in Shawn and every single perfect What If. This girl reminds him of a movie star he can’t remember the name of. Big blonde curls. Big eyelashes. Big smile. Tiny waist.

She’s amazingly beautiful. Amazing doll like. Amazingly…not his type.

Spencer still nervously smiles and clears his throat. “I kind of am.”

“Cardigan gave it away,” she giggles, turning him towards the edge of the stadium seating, dropping them onto the bottom row seat. “I’m Kaley Montgomery. My brother and my sister are this shift’s pick up riders.” Spencer nods along like he knows what she’s saying. “I tell ‘em I’m here to support them and my daddy—he put this whole thing on you know—but I’m just here to pick up cute cowboys.”

“I’m not a cowboy,” Spencer blurts. Her laugh is slick like the sugar in a Venus fly trap. He tries not to get drawn in, but she’s all encompassing. Bright perfume. Colourful clothes. Soft skin and warm empathy. There’s nothing uninviting about her and he wants to move back.

“No, honey, you aren’t.” Kaley pauses to look him over. Whatever she sees makes her softly grin. “Why are you here anyway?”

There’s no judgement. She’s safe and alluring and exactly the opposite of what makes him nervous at that moment. The confidence surges for a moment and he answers, “I’m actually trying to find this girl I met a while ago.”

“Must be a special lady. What’s her name?”

“Shawn Healy,” Spencer sighs. It’s wistful. It’s longing. It’s half desperate. It’s been a month since he’s seen her. A month since he snuck back to see if he could catch her at the rodeo one more tine.

Kaley snorts. Her lady-like instincts kick back in and she covers it was a giggle. “Honey, you met the right girl. Shawn’s like my sister. Her shift ends in a few rounds, and she’s meeting me here if you just wanna stick around for a second.”

And he does. Kaley keeps him laughing, has him singing the high praises of Rodeo sports by the end. It’s maybe another ten minutes. Ten minutes of calming down, easing into the world. Kaley looks like she has whiplash with all of the questions he’s asking. And she’s a little dazed when he blinks at her sheepishly.

“Told he was smart, didn’t I?” a voice says behind him and Spencer jumps out of his skin. He’s desperate to slip it back on without seeming desperate. Without seeming nervous. But it all melts. Shawn’s in front of him. Shawn’s grinning. Shawn’s even more beautiful without the glitter.

“How did you recognise me?” he blurts. There’s stumbling as he tries to backtrack. Shawn’s eyes are green this close up and she smells like leather and oats and apples. His sentences lose traction as she peels her hat off, and sits down next to him.

There’s nothing soft about her. She’s callused. Rough. Nothing like any other girl he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. Spencer doesn’t need more than ten seconds to know that Shawn’s never worn glitter more than the one time and never will again. To known that Shawn is simple and complicated and every grey area he’s ever wanted to explore.

Shawn’s eyes are still and focused. She follows Kaley as the girl stands and leaves. Returns the gaze to Spencer with a glint he can’t categorise. There’s a pause. Lead up to another eight seconds of life changing to be done.

“You were sitting by yourself at a sorting event at the South Point,” she breathes, brushing a piece of dirt off the hat in her hands. Setting it beside her on the bleacher. She gives him plenty of time to stare. To appreciate her.

There’s plenty of time, Spencer thinks and he keeps her gaze with a nervous grin.

Shawn brushes a hand over the frazzled bits of her hat hair. “I came and sat next to you because you looked so lonely. You were so afraid.”

His brain fires and spits and roars to life. He can remember the strange girl who came to sit by him, a sea of empty spaces around him. He’d just committed his mom. Was just about to leave for MIT. He’d been swimming in a sea of self-hatred when he’d been greeted by braces and pimples and too much dark hair. She’d explained every second of the calf sort, almost unprompted, and sussed out every single one of his questions.

It had been as close as he ever dared get to being a cowboy. A decade later and she was every introduction to this world he’d ever had.

Shawn’s got two seconds left on the clock and she doesn’t disappoint. Her fingers are delicate as she places a precarious hand on his knee. There’s a soft pressure to his patella. Shawn’s touching him and he can’t help the shock.

“I had one of those day long crushes. You were the smartest man I’d ever met.”

And no words are suddenly good enough. He wants to tell her that he’s fallen in love now. That he can’t help it. That all he wants is to listen to her drawl on for the rest of his life. That she’d made that last week in Vegas bearable. That she’d been everything. Still was.

But there’s no good way to articulate that. And maybe she knows that. Maybe Shawn Healy was a profiler in a different life because she lets go of his knee and switches subjects. Leans back against the seat behind her, stretching out into the spot of sun.

“It’s my lunch break,” she announces, her boots drifting closer to touching his chucks. The eyes don’t matter as the bleachers stare. What matters is Shawn’s tricky smile. “Have lunch with me.”

He nods and doesn’t think he could bear to disagree with her. Shawn disappears for a moment long enough that he’s worried she isn’t coming back, but she plops french fries into his lap not a second later than the worry begins to fester. Shawn’s not one to back out of commitments, he learns, and ends up hearing enough bad stories that Spencer isn’t sure how they’re getting along so well.

Because they’re getting along so well. Too well. Like they’ve never stopped talking since she was 15 and he was 18. Three hours is too early to say I love you, but he’s thinking it as she talks through a basket of french fries. As she sneaks them to some tiny kids in even tinier cowboy boots.

He’s thinking it every time she laughs.

He’s thinking it as she shoves his shoulder and demands to know why he doesn’t own a pair of jeans.

He’s thinking it even as she stands and apologises and stuffs her business card in his shirt pocket. “We’ll get you cowboy’d up one of these days, Dr. Reid. Now, don’t you forget to call—I’m late again.”

She runs off and he can’t stop thinking I love you so much as she waves at him over her shoulder and once again when she’s in the arena, back on a new horse.

Penelope is near tears at the end of Spencer’s story. He relaxes into the new world he’s entering. The one, two years later, where he’s wondering exactly how much he can keep to himself. How much Garcia will suss out and how much he’ll tell her himself.

Penelope folds her arms and suddenly frowns. She’s got a bee in her bonnet and Spencer’s afraid of what it means.

“Shawn,” she murmurs to herself. “Spencer Reid is shacking up with a cowgirl. I can’t—I’ll see it when I believe it.”

This is her attempt to get Spencer to show her pictures, or call Shawn, or even bring her around. But he doesn’t. He just smirks. No matter how much he actually can’t work the phone in his hands, he doesn’t want to. Shawn’s worried enough about meeting the team, she doesn’t need one Penelope Garcia tracking her down and tackling her.

“How ever much I love this chat we’re having, I have to get back to work,” Spencer announces. He stands. Walks off before Penelope can ask more questions.

And despite all of her yelling and protests and shouting for him to just come back here and tell me if she’s your girlfriend, Penelope knows she won’t get anything more. She’s determined anyway, and plans to corner JJ later on.

She finds doesn’t have to ask JJ, cornered or not. Because not four hours later, does Penelope find one Dr. Spencer Reid admiring the diamonds on the wedding ring he’s holding up between him and the coffee pot. He’s quick to shove it in his pocket as Penelope enters the little kitchenette. Quick to stir sugar in his coffee like nothing’s happened. Like Penelope definitely didn’t see the ring he’s waiting to give Shawn.

“When did you get the ring?” she asks, quietly opening the box of tea.

“Promise not to think I’m crazy?”

Penelope nods, turning just enough to see just how love stricken the poor boy is. “I’d even pinky promise, my love.”

He smirks and softens and says almost so quietly she doesn’t hear, “It was about two weeks after our first date. It took about eight seconds to find the right one.”

#pls I'm doing my best #i've also got anxiety to the moon and back #spencer reid #oc #criminal minds #dr spencer reid

160 notes · View notes