Heart o' the Sea :: ch. 1
A Stardew Valley fanfic, by me (❁´◡`❁)
Right now there's no TW but there might be later on. Basically, it's a fluffy, angsty fic about my farmer OC Cyprian and Willy in a very platonic, more familial role. Here's the first chapter.
edit: brief edit of the title cause I liked this way better lols
In the beginning, there was only a crap ton of work to be done on Shadow Veil Farm. Cyprian had stood for at least five minutes surveying his inheritance and feeling like he wanted to turn tail and run. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled up his clean britches, tapped the toe of his boots on the ground, and got to work.
He spent all day chopping wood, breaking rocks, and clearing a path north to south, and to the east toward town. Feeling sluggish, his muscles protesting and screaming their tiredness, he trudged his way to the Stardrop Saloon. His stomach grumbled in appreciation on the way.
When he stepped in, music swirled around him in a lazy but comfortable tune. There were several people there, not many, but enough for Cyprian not to consider the saloon empty. He walked up to the bar with his knees almost knocking together from the utter exhaustion.
“H-hello,” he said quietly.
The bartender, a portly fellow with an impressive mustache and a friendly smile, grinned at him. “The new farmer, eh? What’s your name?”
“C-Cy–” He coughed and cleared his throat, feeling his face flush. “Sorry, I’m a little parched.”
“No worries, we can remedy that.”
“My name’s Cyprian Dugall.” He finally managed to sputter out.
“Nice to meet you, boy!” The older man jovially chuckled, sticking out a bear paw of a hand. “I’m Gus, owner and chef here at the Stardrop. Now, what can I get you started on?”
Cyprian reached out and shook the man’s hand, internally cringing at the way his palms still burned from the wooden handles of his beginner tool set. A brief thought entered his mind, Probably should have invested in some gloves or something, but it left shortly thereafter.
“Hey, Gus,” a new voice beside Cyprian greeted the barkeep, “can I get a glass of red tonight?”
“Right on it, doc, let me just help this young’un.” Gus turned back to Cyprian, waiting patiently.
“Oh–uh, well,” he winced. “Could I get what he’s having?”
Cyprian wasn’t very knowledgeable with alcohol in general, but he did enjoy wine after work when he lived in the city. He could do with a familiar comfort after such a long day. Gus nodded once and went to grab a bottle.
“You must be the new farmer, right?” The voice from before spoke to him directly this time.
Cyprian turned to see another older man, though not quite as old as Gus. He also had an impressive mustache, Cyprian noted, amused. He also had glasses and round eyes that were kind. Something in the young man’s chest fluttered. “Hm? O-oh, yes. Cyprian.”
“I’m Harvey. I’m the town doctor. I run that clinic up by Pierre’s store. I don’t know if you’ve been there yet?”
Cyprian shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been… working, I guess?” He chuckled tiredly, “It’s a little overwhelming, if I’m being honest.”
Harvey gestured to the seat next to him, and Cyprian nodded. Harvey sat in the seat before responding, “What did you do before you moved here?”
“I worked in an office. Customer service.”
The doctor nodded, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “Would you say you had an active life or was it more sedentary?”
Cyprian’s face heated up involuntarily. “W-well, no, I wasn’t very active. I mostly just went from home to work.”
Harvey nodded again, smiling. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. However, I would like to recommend stretching before starting your day. It would help with the pain and soreness after a hard day’s work.”
The young man inclined his head. “R-right,”
“Alright, fellas, here’s your reds.” Gus had come back and set down two wine glasses in front of the other men, gracefully pouring some wine in each glass with a flourish of the bottle at the end. “Enjoy. And Cyprian, it’s on the house tonight, okay?”
“Thanks, Gus.”
“Sure thing.”
Cyprian reached for his wine glass and Harvey spoke up before he took a drink. “Sorry about that, it’s hard for me to ‘take off the coat’, so to speak.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just don’t want our new farmer to end up in my clinic sooner than he should.”
The young man smiled appreciatively. “No worries, doctor. Thank you for the advice.”
“Well, should we toast, then?” Harvey grabbed his glass as Cyprian nodded shyly. “Welcome to Pelican Town, Cyprian.”
The glasses clinked together gently and both men tipped them towards their lips, taking their first drink of the night. Cyprian set his glass down again, looking at his hands. They were almost raw and they were definitely red and sore. Harvey noticed, too.
“Do you need something for that?”
Cyprian flinched. Of course nothing would escape him, he’s the only doctor for an entire town! “Um, yeah, I probably should get something, huh?” His laugh was stilted and awkward.
“It’s nothing to feel bad about,” Harvey said in a comforting tone. “Farm work is hard work, and that’s putting it lightly.”
“Tell me about it,” the young man mumbled.
“I’ll leave something for you in your mailbox tomorrow morning. Put it on like lotion, and you’ll be good as new.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
Harvey’s face turned a little red and he lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, “Ah, just call me Harvey.”
“O-okay, Harvey.” That fluttering feeling came back and his heart beat a little faster. “S-say,” Cyprian said suddenly. “I heard there was a fisherman around here, but I haven’t seen him.”
“Oh, Willy?” Harvey took another sip of his wine. “He’s not here tonight, but he should be returning in a few days.”
“Where’s he gone?”
“He took a fishing trip down south. Said something about a stingray migration?”
Cyprian’s eyebrows lifted up in interest. “Really?”
Harvey blushed again, “I don’t know much about fishing, so you’ll have to ask him about it when he returns.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the night was spent with Cyprian and Harvey chatting for another hour or so before they went their separate ways. Despite the toughness of the day, he felt like he was walking a little lighter on his feet as he made his way back to the cabin.
—♡♡♡—
The next morning, right before the sun fully rose over the horizon, Cyprian was waking up. His arm, back, and leg muscles ached something dreadful as he rolled out of bed. He dressed quickly and snacked on some protein bars, watching the weather channel. Clear skies for the next day or so at least.
He walked out and breathed in the morning air. It was misty, the air quickly warming up and evaporating the morning dew that lingered on the grass. The smell of earth and grass filled his senses and he smiled to himself.
Then he noticed the little red flag sticking up on his mailbox. Curious, he went over and checked inside. There was a tube of ointment with a letter attached, along with another standalone letter. Underneath all of this was a pair of thick leather working gloves.
He sat on his steps to read the letters, placing the tube and gloves down. He opened Harvey’s letter first.
Dear Cyprian,
I almost gave Pierre a heart attack this morning banging on his door because I needed to purchase some ingredients for this ointment. I also found a pair of gloves that might help you as well. Don’t worry about paying me back, though! Consider it a prescription if you must.
Good luck today.
Kindest regards,
Harvey
The writing was smudged and looked like it had been erased several times before the doctor had settled on what to say. Cyprian smiled; it was adorable and brought back that lovely flutter-feeling that warmed his chest.
He opened the second letter.
Hello new Farmer,
Just got back from a fishing trip.
Come down to the beach sometime, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.
Willy
Short and sweet and to the point. The handwriting was as confident as the letter itself. Cyprian hummed his appreciation and tucked both letters away in his bag that he’d taken to carrying around. He rubbed on the ointment Harvey had given him before slipping on the gloves and reached for his hoe.
Another hard day of work waited for him.
—♡♡♡—
Some odd hours later, Cyprian was hurrying along down to the beach, hoping he wasn’t too late. The day had gotten away from him, what with planting and watering and fixing up a fence. He just fixated too much.
He speed-walked across the bridge and down the beach toward the dock in the distance. He could see a lone figure at one end, by the light pole as he approached. His footsteps echoed quite loudly, making him feel flustered.
“H-hi,” he called out. “I got your letter this morning, er, Willy?”
Willy turned to look at him. He was a grizzled old man, with fine lines crinkling around his eyes and mouth, and hair that used to be brown now looked gray with age. In his mouth was an old battered pipe, smoke curling gently from the cup at the end of it.
“Ahoy there, son. Heard there was gonna be a newcomer in town…. Glad to finally meet ya’.” Willy’s voice was deep and rumbly, crackly from either age or his pipe-smoking.
“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.” Cyprian gave the older gentleman a timid smile.
Willy chuckled, a tone that rumbled from his chest. “Ah, don’ worry about all that. Jus’ call me Willy, lad.”
The fisherman took a few puffs of his pipe before tapping it out against his worn muck boots and putting it away in one of his vest pockets once it was empty. “Ah, I’m still trying to unwind from a month out on the salty seas…. It was a big haul! I sold a lot of good fish.” He smiled when he said this and Cyprian relaxed at the sight of it. Despite his initial appearance, it seemed Willy was a very friendly old man.
“I heard,” Cyprian replied. “Stingray migration?”
“Oh? You interested in all that?” Willy peered at him intensely, causing Cyprian to glance toward the water.
“Y-yeah, actually. Fishing was a big part of why I came out here.”
“That’s good to hear, that is!” Willy let out another hearty chuckle. “Y’see, it’s important to me to keep the art o’ fishin’ alive. So I beckoned ye’ out here for this–”
The old fisherman walked over to the bench nearby and lifted up a well-used fishing rod. “--my ol’ fishing rod. She’s not much of a beaut anymore, but I reckon she’ll serve ye’ jus’ fine and dandy.”
Cyprian’s eyebrows raised as far as he could manage. “Y-you’re giving me the fishing rod? Just like that?”
“O’course, son. No one roun’ here needs it, and I just bought me self a new one from all the luck I had down south!” Willy grinned. “Take it, boy. Maybe once in a while, ye’ll stop by my shop sometime, eh?”
“Y-yes, of course!” Cyprian reached for the rod, holding it gingerly in his hands. He turned it this way and that, looking at all of it. Definitely worn with some scratches here and there, but it seemed sturdy enough.
A silence settled between both of them, which soon turned to Cyprian awkwardly fidgeting with the rod.
“Well, what’s keepin’ ya, lad?” Willy asked, his bushy ‘brows pinching together.
“It’s just… um.” Cyprian couldn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t… know h-how… to use… it.”
It was Willy’s turn to look shocked, but only for a second. Then he let out his loudest laugh yet, clapping one of his hands on the younger man’s shoulder. “Aw shucks, me boy! There ain’ nothin’ to it, really! Here, let me go get my new rod and I’ll show ye’ the basics, alrigh’?”
“S-sure, Willy,” Cyprian’s face couldn’t get any redder at that moment, nor could he possibly feel any less embarrassed.
The old man shuffled off, still chuckling to himself. Cyprian sighed in a long-suffering manner, wiping his brow. This ought to be fun, he thought to himself. How little did he know at the time.
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